Random Orcs
by Galadriel Tolkien
Summary: Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga falls into Middle Earth and discovers things are not what they seem.
1. Gathering Gloom

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter One: Gathering Gloom  
  
by Galadriel Suzy DeTolkien  
  
We fell to earth, a flashing star in the sky. It was night, of course, don't get me wrong, we were nice and poetic looking. However, wind sheer is nowhere as poetic as it sounds. But we fell. It didn't hurt, much. We had jumped through the gate as normal, to find this end high in the stratosphere.  
  
Good thing I wasn't afraid of heights.  
  
Halfway down a force lashed out from a tower far in the distance. For an instant, I caught a glimpse of white robes and cruel mouth. Then the flicker of vision was gone, and Alayna and I were torn from each other.  
  
::Well, hell.:: Being separated from my only means of transport rather bit.  
  
::See you in the future.:: She called philosophically, the wind pulling her away into the distance.  
  
It was irritating, to say the least. And I probably could have stopped her by using telekinesis. But I decided I had more worrying things to deal with. Like the ground that was fast approaching. I checked around myself quickly, catching mountains ahead of me and deep forest just about everywhere else. The silver ribbon of a river was almost directly below me.  
  
A very cold river.  
  
The cute little woodland creatures received a vocabulary lesson as my head broke the surface. I fought the current, trying to stay in one place and get my bearings. Land was a must. And soon, because the river was chilling me to the bone. And soaking through my greatcoat and pants. And my poor boots. They'd never be the same.  
  
I treaded water as best I could, cursing as my boots tried to remove themselves from my feet, dragging at my legs as they filled with water. The nearer bank was probably the eastern bank--given my own pet theory that all rivers flow south, regardless of reality. Or, this could be one of those freaky rivers that flowed clockwise. I struck out for it, and found that the river refused me access.  
  
Fate sucks.  
  
Turning, I studied the west bank, my eyes straining in the dark. It was irritating, since I only seemed to have normal night sight, and NOT my normal Mage-sight. I like seeing in the dark, dammit.  
  
Diving, I slipped under the current, passing through the water, my teeth chattering as I swam. I came up, several feet still from my goal. One last effort was required. And then land! Dry ground. And wood! There was wood. I could make a fire!  
  
With what? I wondered. Any matches I'd had would be wet now. And I wasn't sure how the magic of this new world reacted. I could blow up a mountain while trying to light a small twig.  
  
Crawling up the bank, I cursed. Mud and other things were coating my legs, some sliding into my boot-tops. I could feel itchy crap under my sleeves. I hate dirt in my clothes.  
  
Something jabbed into my back, and I froze. Cold, wet, muddy, and now there was a sharp pointy thing jabbing into my back. Great. Just great.  
  
"Who dares the borders of Lorien?"  
  
Nice voice, sounded a bit young. Male, most likely. "I am Marya. And I didn't know I was on the border of anything, much less Lorien." I came out of the river, you twit.  
  
"Get up."  
  
"It might take a moment. I'm laying on my coat, and it's tangled all up in my legs." Carefully moving, I got my legs under me, then stood. My boots squelched, my coat slapped clammily against my legs and clung to my arms with a sticky tar-like feel. I quickly detangled myself lest I fall over again.  
  
And I was cold.  
  
"What is your business here?"  
  
"Can I turn around?" I have always disliked not being able to see the face of the person I'm about to kick into next week.  
  
"Very well."  
  
I turned slowly, keeping my hands in view, as well as taking a good look around me. My night sight was returning, along with a small glow that seemed to outline all living things. Trees were a green, the man standing in front of me was an icey blue. He was only a slight bit taller than me--or maybe he was standing in a hole. Didn't check. Blond hair was pulled tightly back from his face, two braids hung down the sides of his face, while the rest of the length cascaded down his back in a liquidly frozen waterfall of pure and icy brilliance.  
  
Don't worry, that's the last time I mention it.  
  
Unless I cut it while he's asleep.  
  
For he was a he, with pointy ears. I blinked. An elf with a bow. How cliche. Yeah, yeah. I forgot the bow. It was pointed at me steadily, the arrow a silvery point in the moonlight.  
  
Around us was forest, green trees and gentle ground cover. A few rocks, and lots of moss and grass and mud. Lots of mud.  
  
"I asked you your business."  
  
"Um. Don't have any, right now." I tilted my head at him. "Doesn't it get boring, holding a bow on a person?"  
  
He blinked at me.  
  
"'Cause, I've done it before myself. And that's a *long bow*. And, dude, I *know* how hard it gets after a while. So, why don't you stop, and not worry about me? I'm on the side of Good, always am."  
  
"I am pledged to kill all who enter Lorien without invitation."  
  
"Oh." I pondered that. "Um. Why don't you show me out, and we'll call it even?"  
  
"You--"  
  
"Look, Elfie, I didn't plan to be here. I don't really want to be, I'm tired, I'm wet, I'm freezing my nipples off, and my boots are ruined. Probably." I shifted, and felt dirt tickling the back of my neck. "And, I'm covered in mud. Death would be too much of a relief."  
  
He laughed. "You are strange, but I don't think a threat will come from you." He chuckled as he un-nocked his arrow and tucked it back into the quiver. Then he sobered, "Thank you. Lorien hasn't heard laughter from my lips for years."  
  
"Uh. You're welcome." I blinked. "Who are you, by the way?"  
  
"I am Haldir, Elf of Lothlorien. The Lady of the Wood dislikes much commerce on Her borders."  
  
"Well, as I said, I'm Marya." I reached up and touched my hair; it was nearly dry. "Marya DeZorga, no clan, or anything like that."  
  
"Come, Marya, there are blankets and dry things a small space away from here."  
  
I shivered suddenly. "Good. I don't suppose you have anything hot to drink?"  
  
He nodded, then turned and led me through the trees.  
  
We walked, I'm not sure for how long, as my world began narrowing into the need for warmth, and my will to stay on my feet and not fall. Eventually, I ran into a tree. I heard him chuckle again, then he disappeared.  
  
A moment later, a rope ladder fell down past my shoulder. With a sigh, and a curse for all sylvan folk, I climbed.  
  
The platform I wearily reached was high enough to be unseen, and low enough I wouldn't break my neck if I rolled off. This was good. I didn't need to die soon, I was much happier contemplating naked dryness. I didn't wait, I began stripping. It was a slow and careful strip, since my legs and arms had stiffened with the cold, and protested complicated maneouveres (don't ask me how I got up the ladder).  
  
My greatcoat came first, and I didn't have the energy to weep at its sodden state as I draped it over the edge of the platform hoping it would dry by morning. My shirt was next, the white letters on it proclaiming me the Goddess of War and Chocolate. Haldir made an amused sound, but I ignored him, preferring to work on my boots.  
  
Bare feet felt wonderful after mud and wet and cold. I unbuckled my swordbelt, letting it rest next to my boots. My pants came next. And then came the difficult part.  
  
I had knife-sheaths banded around me in an intricate pattern. It normally wasn't this bad, but there'd been this ceremony thing, and, well... Anyway. I had to take them off in the order they'd gone on, or they'd get all tangled up. And untangling straps is a bitch.  
  
Five minutes later, I was down to dragon mail and underwear. I unzipped the mail, letting it flop to my feet, then sighed happily, free of almost everything now.  
  
The mail had been a gift from a friend several universes back. It was light, completely black, and changed shape as I needed it to.  
  
I scooped up a blanket and wrapped it around myself happily.  
  
"Here." Haldir pressed a cup into my hand, and I accepted it, happy to find it was warm. He apparently hadn't been perturbed at my stripping. It irked, slightly, but I could live with it.  
  
"So. Haldir, you wouldn't happen to know a way to get things dry fast, would you?" I wasn't holding out hope for a dryer. Something told me this world wasn't even wired for lights. Electricity was probably magic. I thought longingly of a coffee pot.  
  
"I'm afraid not. But you may borrow some of my clothing in the morning."  
  
"Er. Thanks." I sipped at the drink, happy to find it was some sort of mulled wine with herbs in it. "Um. Bed?"  
  
"I'm afraid we just sleep directly on the platform. But you can have an extra blanket."  
  
He handed me one as I sat down. "Again. My thanks." I finished the mug quickly, then set it down. "If you don't mind, I need sleep now. Ask any questions you have in the morning."  
  
"Yes." He looked down at me, suddenly troubled. "I shall."  
  
I thought about asking whether I should serve on a watch, then decided not to bother. I was tired, more tired than I had been for a long time. It was time to sleep.  
  
--  
  
A desolate land lay before me, haunted by the cries of the dead and the tortured screams of those still alive. I stared at it, shivering in the cold wind. Water and the smell of old blood and other things floated on the breezes.  
  
Scraggly trees dotted that area around me, almost white in the pale sunlight that fell on them. They'd never had leaves, I don't think. Or if they had, the leaves had all burned away to dust.  
  
Dust and debris showered around me, the scene changing. I stood on the lip of a volcano, staring down into its heart. Something horrible was below me. A figure that oozed evil. Evil that I had met before and bested. It had so much power as it stood there, gloating.  
  
A gleam of gold lay on its finger as it turned this way and that, extending its power out into its realm, and further, touching others. I felt places far away give, falling to darkness and pain.  
  
Night fell, the trees rustling angrily to themselves as they walked beneath them. I was merely a fly on a branch, buzzing around, uninterested.  
  
Ambush.  
  
I watched as the leader slunk away, a ring of gold on one finger.  
  
Scene change again, this time a dark pit of despair wrapped around me, a voice whispering to itself. Pain and shock, rage and sorrow filled me. And pity.  
  
The voice delved into my head, worming its way around my mind, trying to corrupt, trying to destroy sane thought.  
  
"Precious... my Precious..."  
  
My mind whimpered away from the despair, seeking comfort and light.  
  
There was none in the pitiless grey of a mountain pass. Cold air blasted out, trying to remove me from my clinging position there. Rocks fell around me, one hitting my right hand. I felt it go numb, releasing its precarious hold.  
  
For an instant I dangled. And then I fell, pain taking me down into dark again.  
  
I fought it, fought for release, for awareness of reality.  
  
And sat up, a voice echoing in my head as I did, "North..."  
  
Light shone down on me, playing in green and gold boughs. I stared at it, trying to sort it out, remember who I was. Where... For a moment I considered dropping my shields and reading the forest with telepathy. Immediately I decided that would be a bad idea.  
  
"You're awake."  
  
The voice sent me to my feet, crouching.  
  
I must have looked really silly, standing there, swaying and shivering as the blankets fell, leaving me naked. Well, almost naked.  
  
Haldir chuckled. "I'm not your enemy. The Lady has granted you life, but bids you leave her realm as soon as may be."  
  
"Thank you." I grabbed a blanket and curled into it. "Um. I don't suppose you have those clothes..."  
  
"In a moment." He turned away and rummaged in a chest.  
  
Since it was light, I could see the little platform cum-treehouse better. It was actually rather large, with several small chests that must have housed supplies and weapons. I didn't bother looking over an edge. Making myself dizzy would be idiotic.  
  
"Here." He handed me a tunic and trousers. "I'm afraid I've taken your weapons--they'll be returned once you leave the Border."  
  
"Ah. I'd wondered about that." With a shrug I dropped the blanket and hastily scrambled into the clothes. The dragon mail and other things could wait.  
  
"Slippers?"  
  
With clothes on, I was much warmer. And I had a feeling I'd be even warmer once I started. "Nah. I'll be fine barefoot."  
  
"Then, if you're ready."  
  
"Gimme a second." I grabbed my boots and tossed them over the side, followed by the mail, greatcoat, t-shirt, and pants I'd been wearing the night before. "There." I turned and slid through the hole in the platform, feet finding the ladder rungs easily.  
  
Once on the ground I collected my belongings, glaring at the still completely soaked boots. They could take days to dry. And I didn't have the time. I sighed.  
  
"This way."  
  
I followed as he led through the wood of gold and green. The ground was dry and cool in most places, feeling wonderful on my feet as we walked. Fairly soon we came to the edge of the Golden Wood, and I sighed as I stepped out from its shade. I felt bereft, as if something wonderful was sadly releasing me.  
  
"Your weapons." Haldir held them out to me, and I looped an arm through the tangle with a grimace. "Marya, please avoid Lorien, if you can. The Lady only grants favour once. And usually not at all. You were lucky."  
  
"I know. Thank you. And thank her, please." I turned from him and checked the position of the sun. North was ahead of me, along the bank of the river as it flowed. Grass lay under my feet, crisp and slightly ragged.  
  
I walked for a long time, avoiding any place that looked painful to feet, always angling north. I knew not where I was headed, but there was someone I had to meet.  
  
He was going to die in a mountain pass, otherwise.  
  
I hate precognitive dreams.  
  
--  
  
I encountered no one as I followed the river. Surprisingly, the air was quite warm. I wondered if I'd been wrong in assuming the season was winter. Maybe the river was naturally colder than hell freezing over. Either that or I was just energy deprived.  
  
The thought occurred to me that I should take a moment to trance down and see what sort of magic lay around me. I could use the drying spell then, and have my boots back.  
  
I weighed the pros and cons of it. On the one hand, it might flash like a beacon of light to any other magic-doer in the world. On the other, not knowing my strengths would handicap me when it came to fights. There was also the fact that I had a tendency to 'leak' magic in a new world. The elf hadn't seemed to notice anything, but it could have just been lost in the surrounding woods.  
  
My foot encountered a rock, at that point, and I was reduced to much loud cursing.  
  
That settled it, I decided, tossing my clothing and weapons and boots down. For better or for worse, I needed to find out my limitations in this new world. And dry my things, besides.  
  
Of course, the dragon mail was dry, but I couldn't wear just that. Especially since it wasn't like footie pyjamas. My feet needed protection. And at some point, I needed to address things like the tackiness of my hair, and the mud dried on various portions of my anatomy. Most of it had been cracked off during the night, but I still would have preferred a bath. Even cold, but getting in and out of the river would add more mud. Defeating the purpose, really.  
  
I sat down cross-legged, feet tucked out of the way of any cold breezes. My eyes drifted closed, and I began slowing my breathing, preparing to slip into a trance that would allow me to view my options.  
  
The world around me darkened, the sunlight sliding away as something took my inner vision, showing it a picture that seemed to move. I sighed as yet another 'movie' slid across my mind, this one regarding two brothers. One found a ring in the middle of the river, while diving for fish. The other coveted it.  
  
"It is my birthday, my Precious."  
  
"You can't have it, Smeagol. It's mine."  
  
Smeagol whined and hissed, "You should gift it me, my Preciousss. Yessss."  
  
The other man crouched on the bank, happy with his find. It glittered gold in the sunlight there. For a moment, the river chuckled happily to itself in the silence. And then Smeagol tackled his brother.  
  
All was still again much later, the body of Deagol buried in some dank cave, while Smeagol took his Precious and went away. I shuddered at the lust and greed that the ring seemed to engender in everyone and everything. For it had to be the ring. The same one I'd seen in my earlier nightmares.  
  
For a moment, I could sense the ring, calling to me, calling to its master more likely. But I could feel it. Away to the west and north, it pulled.  
  
I wrenched out of the trance, panting. Apparently, I was being given a history lesson to this world whether I liked it or not. And it was shaping up to be an epic history, with lots of derring-do, and Fate. I sighed.  
  
Fate can kiss my ass.  
  
--  
  
The magic in the air around me responded to my careful probes by reacting much like any other magic. In this, I was glad, because something told me I'd need some major spells before the side of Good won the day.  
  
I studied my boots a moment, then carefully called the drying spell to me. It fluttered around like a butterfly, then dove into the boots, removing the moisture. I sent it after the rest of my clothing, happy that very little of it seemed to ripple the magic around me.  
  
I didn't light up like a beacon in the fog. This was good.  
  
Once my clothes were dry, I began the long process of putting them on--with weapons in the right places. Those damned straps chafe if not positioned just right.  
  
Dragon mail, first. I sealed the last section of zipper and stretched, feeling it settle correctly in various places. The weapons came next, the straps tangling, then settling properly. I'll admit I used just a bit of TK to get them settled right, since I only have two hands, not four. Pants next. I buckled my swordbelt over them, wriggling my hips to get it sitting properly. My t-shirt still loudly proclaimed me the Goddess of War and Chocolate, and I pondered that. This was a world without electricity, sewing machines, or even coffee makers. A bit of writing on a shirt might discomfit people. I might like putting people off-centre, but even I didn't need the headache that would be the endless questions it would cause. I flipped the shirt inside out and pulled it on.  
  
The dragon mail faded to invisible, then, as it tended to do once I had clothing over it. It was the most useful property the stuff had (well, aside from the 'stops cannonballs' aspect) and had kept people from discovering it even when I was unconscious, stripped, and at the mercy of enemies.  
  
Which wasn't often.  
  
I pulled on my boots, happy that they were now dry and snuggly again. They'd been lined with soft fur, which kept me from freezing my toes off in winter. I checked that the two boot knives were safe, then pulled all the straps tight and tied my laces.  
  
Now, there was nothing left, but the greatcoat. I folded the elf clothing into a bundle, and shoved it into one of the pockets of the coat, then draped it over an arm. For it was much too warm to put it on.  
  
The sun was shining, birds were singing. And it was high time I continued on my way. Fate wanted me north. I wanted to be away from here. And there was sure to be more Portents and Signs.  
  
Miles north of where I'd stopped to dry my clothing, I came upon an ancient battlefield. It resonated with old death and sadness. Betrayal and pain skittered along my bones, and I tightened my shields in irritation.  
  
A glint of metal attracted my eye, and I stepped towards it. The sword tip had broken off long ago, been buried in mud, and now glinted in the sunlight.  
  
Uh-huh. Right. "OK, I get it." I muttered. I knelt and closed my eyes, loosening my shields slightly.  
  
A cascade of images assaulted me. Mostly battles and deaths, men dying valiantly, injured by massive evil creatures. Men fighting men. Ambush, chaos. One man slipped away, a ring on his finger glinting in the sunlight. He was invisible to the others, but the sunlight shone on the ring, catching the eyes of orc archers. Orcs? The archers shot at the man as he dove into the river.  
  
And the ring slipped off his finger, revealing him completely to their sight.  
  
I shivered as he became peppered with arrows, a rabbit ripe for the stew, blood saturating the water as he floated away down the river.  
  
The ring shone as it floated to the bottom. Lost, forever, until... It was the brothers again, Deagol and Smeagol, and I blinked out of the visions, sighing.  
  
So. A ring of power, lost through the ages and found again. It exerted a hold over all who saw it, and I wondered what would happen if I wore it.  
  
Probably nothing.  
  
I stared sightlessly at the battlefield, pondering my options. Fate had dragged me here, plunked me down into the middle of a story. And I was betting there was gonna be a quest involved. And epic stuff. I hoped it wouldn't be as boring as the Wheel of Time, or other things of that nature.  
  
Shaking my head, I stood and, ignoring the sword tip, strode on northwards.  
  
--  
  
By midday, I had passed beyond starving and was fast approaching sick with hunger. Deciding living was the better part of valour, I slipped into the trees, hunting with a sword.  
  
There's an art to hunting with a sword. For one thing, you have to be really fast. For another, you have to be completely silent. I happen to be damned good at it. It helps that I've had over a thousand years of practise. Of course, part of that was probably hunting with a bow. But I didn't have one, so I was settling for my sword.  
  
As I beheaded a rabbit, I wondered if it would give me any sort of prophetic flashes into my future or past. It didn't, and I quickly dressed it. And realised I needed a fire.  
  
I moved back to the riverside, and found a good spot for a bonfire. Then I hung the rabbit high in the trees and tramped back into the woods after a few more. If I smoked them, I'd have food for several days.  
  
Four more rabbits, and I had a nice amount ready to be smoked. I carefully hung them all above the spot I'd planned to make the fire in. Then I created a magical barrier, sort of a variation on the drying spell and a shield against physical things (like arrows). I kindled the fire, happy to see that it drew straight up into the cone of the magical funnel. It would take about four hours for the accelerated heat to smoke the rabbits to perfection. And then I'd be able to carry them and not worry about spoilage. My mouth watered. And I'd be able to eat.  
  
I decided to take advantage of the time it would take to find a bathing spot. Dry mud only itches for so long before it becomes a real nuisance. And it had passed both those stages.  
  
--  
  
Two days of traveling through ever green and lush and rivery country are enough to send me almost mad. Especially when I'm all alone, with nothing to talk to or fight. Maybe my mind was just going.  
  
I don't know.  
  
At least I didn't get an arrow in the back, this time. No, this time, the elf-guy pointed an arrow at my front.  
  
"Hi. Do you mind not pointing that at me?"  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I swear, you elf-people are so not into conversation. I'm Marya, and you are?"  
  
He straightened and replied proudly, "I am Legolas, of Mirkwood."  
  
"That's nice." I continued standing, my arms loose at my sides, my senses screeching at me about saving his life at some point. Yeah, yeah. So he was going to fall to a rocky death without me. But how to convince him of that?  
  
It was almost night now. I'd caught him unawares, heading west towards the mountains. He studied me, his eyes dark in the twilight.  
  
"Look, Legolas..." My voice trailed off. I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound stupid or cliche. I couldn't demand to have his child, he wasn't THAT cute after all. Besides, it was just wrong. "I need to go to Rivendell." I blinked. The name had just popped out. When the hell had I heard it before?  
  
"Rivendell?" He blinked at me, the arrow and bow slowly un-nocking from each other. "I am headed there."  
  
"Splendid! We'll go together. Two on the road is much more safe than one." I smiled through my gritted teeth. I could get anywhere faster alone. But this one was a major player, and needed me.  
  
I hate Fate.  
  
--  
  
Legolas seemed puzzled, but willing to let me travel with him. We went on into the night, until even he couldn't see to find the way. We made a small camp under the shadows of a tree. I stifled a yawn and curled up in the greatcoat, "You want me to take first watch?"  
  
"There is no need to watch. These lands are peaceful."  
  
"Cool." I settled down, my arm pillowing my head. "Wake me for breakfast."  
  
I had escaped nightmares the night before. The night before that had been a replay of every battle that this section of land had ever faced, including the ambush and loss of the Ring. Again. So I expected nightmares.  
  
And I got them in brilliant fucking technicolour.  
  
I saw the land bathed in blood and darkness. Armies marched relentlessly, taking the people and driving them in front. Cannon fodder. I felt sickened as those who tried to fight ended up killing those they would protect. And still more battalions of orcs marched on. Wave after wave, killing and raping. Burning the fields and hacking down the trees. At one moment, trees fought back. But not enough. Never enough.  
  
And the land screamed its pain through me, erupting out of this cancerous boil of evil.  
  
The dark tower caught me, pain shivering out along my nerve ends as they applied hot tongs and more torturous implements to my mind and soul. I screamed, power shattering outwards, cracks dancing along the edge of the world wrapped in spider webs and processed cheese.  
  
Mounds of lava caught my attention away from that, and I found myself skiing down a mountainside, my skis made of two ancient bones, the 'snow' a thick layer of ash. I glanced behind myself, to find a wave of lava flowing down on me. I dug in the poles and shoved off, the ash almost as slick as ice. Except for where rocks stuck out of it, I avoided them as best I could until one caught an edge of my left ski.  
  
I went flying, flipping over and over to land in a marsh.  
  
Mud and silt oozed into my clothes, coating me in a foul-smelling substance as I struggled to stand. The mere sucked me in deeper, until I was in it up to my neck. I tried to use telekinesis to free myself, but it was like walking into a brick wall. I couldn't move, could barely breathe for the stench choking me.  
  
Scene change again. Now I was standing in grasslands, brittle green grass up to my knees. There were horses all around me, most not paying much attention. As I watched, it darkened towards evening. Night fell, stars brilliantly scattered across a cloudless sky. I noticed that the constellations appeared in a different configuration than where I was. South of me?  
  
A horse roved into view, contentedly munching on cud.  
  
I knew the horse. It was Alayna, her coat a silvery grey in the starlight. I wondered what colour it was in sunlight. Normally, she was a fairly bright green. We could occasionally disguise it, but it was hard. I usually just told people she was a freak of nature.  
  
::Shut up and watch.::  
  
Herds of horses traveled the plains. And then something arose, something passed them in the night, sending terror into their hearts. I watched as nine black riders came out of the East and scattered the herds on their way into the West. Evil and corruption tainted the land as they strove across it. I shivered, mind reeling at this evidence of evil.  
  
Fate was always irritating, but chose well its tools. 


	2. Ors R UsGrammatically, We Is Orcs

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Two: Orcs R Us--Grammatically, We Is Orcs  
  
by Suzy Tolkien  
  
For the next few days, Legolas and I headed up into the mountains, and I pried everything about this new land that I could from him. Political commentary, as well as other things, like how to make a good loaf of bread. I have no clue why elves make bread, but this one did. A few times, we stopped and ate, or rested for a few hours. But his mission was apparently urgent. And I had nowhere else to be.  
  
Rivendell loomed at the edge of my mind, shadowy and distant. Something to wonder about, but not really notice. To the east and south, I sensed a darkness spreading but as there was little I could do about it, I left it alone.  
  
Alayna and I had the occasional mental conference in our dreams. She told me about the political strife in the grasslands, I mentioned Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Oddly, that dream of evil riders had been something the herd had seen several months ago. Strange that it would have stuck with them, but it had been so pungently evil as to last at the back of the throat for years.  
  
The higher we climbed, the colder the air became. I was grateful to the Marquis whose greatcoat I had borrowed so long ago. Legolas didn't seem to feel the cold, of course. Depend on irritating Elves to be like that. There was no real pass over the mountains, just many little game paths. Sometimes we spent half the day making our way up only to find that the path ended at a sheer cliff.  
  
After the third time of that sort of frustration, I began climbing the cliff-face. Legolas appeared startled, then followed me. We dealt with many of them this way, climbing up clinging to granite and bits of root.  
  
I was in the lead, in near twilight on about the sixth day since I'd met him and the ninth since I'd been dumped into Middle Earth, when we encountered some trouble.  
  
Halfway up the cliff, I paused, ears straining. I'd heard something from below us. I glanced back to spot an orc aiming a crossbow at us. "Shit! Legolas!"  
  
Without a thought, I shoved away from the cliff, flipping backwards to land on the orc, shattering its back as my feet landed on its shoulders. I hadn't stopped it firing though, and the arrow was flying towards Legolas, aimed at his middle back. I turned, arms out as he released from the cliff.  
  
He landed in my arms, and we fell backwards, landing on the body of the orc.  
  
Another orc came out of the trees and I shoved the elf out of my arms, rolling to my feet, sword singing as I pulled it from the sheath. I caught the first blow, then danced away, leading the thing away from Legolas, giving him time to get out his bow and arrow. For there were more coming, tramping madly up the path from some deep cave entrance we must have passed on our way up.  
  
And they were out for our deaths.  
  
I sliced the head off my opponent, and turned, ready to take on another. Legolas was half-crouched behind me, bow out. He was pulling arrows and firing as the orcs stepped out of the trees. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Their momentum kept them coming, stumbling out straight into his line of fire, until one behind called a halt. Their own archers were coming to the fore.  
  
Patting Legolas on the back, I took off at a run towards the trees, knowing our only hope was me getting there before they were ready.  
  
I made it. Barely. Three of them fell with my first slash, but I was quickly surrounded in the melee by more. As I killed one, another took its place. Behind me and to my left, I could hear Legolas' bow singing as he took out more. Some of them were my own opponents, but I wasn't upset.  
  
After all, twenty to one odds daunt even me.  
  
I lost the greatcoat at some point, but ignored that, since it had been an encumbrance, anyway. Slash, parry, slice, behead, the dance went on, fueled by my boredom over the last several days, and the good food I'd been eating. The orcs died, their bodies a desecration to the forest and mountains, fetid stinking blood eating into the carpet of grass and leaves.  
  
The trees hampered them as much as they helped me. Without the ability to charge me en mass, they were left to going at me by twos and threes. Easy odds. By the time the orcs had been reduced to ten, they were running from us, frightened at being overmatched so well.  
  
I stood, panting, sword still held out as they disappeared back the way they'd come. My breath steamed into the air, drifting away in the darkness.  
  
"They'll come back with more."  
  
I swiped my free hand at my forehead, wiping the sweat away, then grimaced. The whole hand was coated in orc-brains, and I vaguely remembered bashing the head of one of their leaders in. "Yeah."  
  
Quickly, I bent and swiped the sword blade clean, then resheathed it. By mutual agreement, the two of us checked the bodies for any usable arrows and other weapons. I gained another four knives, crudely made, but still sharp, and a crossbow with several quivers. My greatcoat I found under the body of an orc, soaked in blood and gore. With a grimace, I retrieved it. I'd be able to clean it when we got to Rivendell. For now, I would still need the warmth. Even if it did smell like dead orc.  
  
Legolas retrieved many of his own arrows, and decided that the orc arrows would work, even though they were slightly shorter than his own.  
  
We went back towards the cliff-face, listening to the stillness in the air. "You go up first, Legolas."  
  
I wanted him watching my ascent with his bow nocked. I didn't want to have to worry about him being left behind. As he climbed, I watched the woods, listening with my instincts as the little woodland creatures slowly began to return to their routines. Several chattering squirrels argued over the body of one orc, while the night birds began coming out, hunting their small prey.  
  
Legolas whistled down to me, and I resheathed my sword. I jumped for the fourth set of handholds, then began climbing my way up. I dispensed with the need for caution, and almost fell twice. But we needed to be away from this area, as far ahead on the trail as we could. For the orcs must have other ways of following us and getting up the cliff wouldn't trouble them at all.  
  
We walked and jogged long into the night, climbing four more steep sections, and finally realising we might actually fall off the mountain in the dark before we stopped. Legolas took first watch and I curled up into the greatcoat, wincing at the smell, and slept.  
  
--  
  
Legolas woke me out of an endless replay of the battle. In slow motion I'd rewatched every stroke of my sword, ever movement of my body. And felt every blow I'd received. I was glad to be awake. My stiff arms and back were less happy.  
  
There was a bruise on Legolas' cheek, and I blinked, wondering when he'd gotten it.  
  
He grinned, "Our fall wasn't quite so gentle as it might have seemed."  
  
"Ah." I stretched, wincing as several bruises rippled. "Sleep, Legolas."  
  
"My thanks." He curled up into a ball, and I sensed he fell into the dreamless sleep the elves seemed to have quickly.  
  
The stars above me whirled in their silent dance, and I idly picked out shapes that might be constellations. One looked like a car, another seemed to be the Sydney Opera House. Dawn was only a few hours away, and I frowned. Legolas seemed to need sleep, yet had still taken the bulk of the night. I could survive on far less sleep than I'd been getting if need be.  
  
I'd have to mention that later.  
  
Which reminded me that I needed to check my ribs and extremities. The dragon mail had kept me from getting slashed up, but I'd still gotten bruises from some of the strikes.  
  
I pulled my shirt off, then unzipped the upper half of the mail, wincing as I saw the large bruises spreading across my chest and left arm. The right had several around the elbow. I had a feeling my back probably mirrored my front. Especially since my normal tactic when wearing the mail was to forget about protecting my body from strikes. I tended to get more bruised, but killed more that way.  
  
With a wince, I rezipped the mail and settled my knives again. I wondered if my healing abilities had passed over into this universe. It might be a good idea to find out, since we were sure to encounter many more orcs.  
  
The slight trance was enough to find them, bubbling away as they reknit my ruptured blood vessels, cell by cell. They seemed to be going somewhat slower, but then, I think I might have had a cracked rib at one point. So, a slow healing of bruises wasn't going to bother me.  
  
The rest of the night passed quickly, the light in the East slowly growing, tipping the rocks around us with a pearly glow. The trees were scraggly, giving way to scrub as we had reached the three-quarter mark up the mountain. There was still days of travel to go. I pulled a strip of meat from my pocket and munched, grimacing at the slight taint of orc blood.  
  
"Legolas, time for breakfast."  
  
--  
  
The orcs didn't find us again until we were over the summit and heading down the mountain. Legolas had explained that orcs really didn't like the sun, for which I was grateful. We had been watching for them, and Legolas caught the glint of metal that signaled the ambush.  
  
I studied the area, trying to find a way around them. There wasn't one. "Legolas, I don't suppose you can fly?"  
  
He looked at me, "Are you serious?"  
  
"Yes." I pulled the crossbow around to the front (it hung from its strap down my back and shoulder), and cursed the lack of time I'd spent practising so my use of it would be quick and smooth. I knew the rudiments, but it had a slightly different configuration than what I'd been used to.  
  
We were hidden behind several bushes, watching the area down slope for movement. So far, the ambushers hadn't noticed us. This was good, because we had lots of time to plan our next move. It was bad, since it meant once we did move, they would probably see us immediately.  
  
"Legolas, how well do you fight in the dark?" I was beginning to have an idea. I closed my eyes and touched the ambient magic around us, confirming that I could use it quickly.  
  
"Fairly."  
  
"Then we wait until full dark. I'll go down first, you follow me very slowly. Once I've engaged them, I'll try and attract them out into range for you." I looked at him, "And this is something they won't expect. I can make bursts of light, will you be able to handle that?"  
  
He frowned, "The flashes will startle my eyes, but they shouldn't cause me undo harm."  
  
I nodded, "I'm going to try sustained light, first. It should scare them somewhat, since you said they don't like the sun."  
  
"Which is why you wish to await full dark."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
He smiled, "I would not want you as my enemy, Marya."  
  
I looked at him gravely, "As long as you seek to destroy Mordor, you shall not have me as such."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
We waited in silence for the evening to deepen, and night to fall on the mountain. I absently checked my knives, making sure they were ready to be drawn. The four orc-knives I had shoved into my belt, I also loosened. I reached for the ambient magic, pulling it into myself, and preparing it for its task in the fight ahead. Without those blasts of light, we would have no advantage. For I had a feeling the orcs might smell us long before we got there.  
  
Finally, it was night, the moon hiding behind clouds. It was going to rain the next day. I hate walking in mud.  
  
I lay down and began slithering down the slope on all fours. Silently I made my way to the right side of the ambushers. A jingle of chain caught my ear, and I froze, listening as one of them muttered to another. It seemed an "I'm so bored now." mutter, so after a moment, I continued on my way.  
  
Five minutes later, I was in the perfect position to rain arrows on our foes, sending them into a crossfire position with Legolas. I picked my first three targets, then waited. Oh. Right. Signal. I whistled softly, knowing his keen hearing would pick it up.  
  
What seemed like seconds later, a soft whistle echoed across the slope.  
  
I fired, taking two of my targets out before the others even noticed. The crossbow got jammed, then, and I swore under my breath. I heard the orcs on Legolas' side suddenly start yelling, and cursed again. "Luthien!" I cried, then sprang into the trees, slicing the head off one orc while throwing a knife at another.  
  
Bright light broke over the battle, shimmering at the edges as it glowed yellowly down. The orcs gave a shout of fear, and broke into a melee, scrabbling away from the 'sun', trying to get back to their caves and the darkness.  
  
I took out several more before the spell-flare faded, and the orcs began slowing their riot. They didn't have time for regrouping as I sheered down through rows and rows of them, the sword biting deep, and their heads and legs and arms falling away, twisted and torn. I lost five knives, and the three orc knives that were left ended buried in the necks of their former owners.  
  
They began to regroup, and I tore on, listening to the other side, to Legolas, steadily shooting arrow after arrow. Every arrow found its target. Every target died. But he would be short, soon, and I would need help.  
  
I lost count of how many I'd killed, when I saw a concerted front starting back up towards us. I'd come further down the mountain, but I could still hear Legolas' bow, far in the distance as I shattered the night with another burst of radiance.  
  
The orcs didn't run, this time, having guessed I was the instigator. With a soft curse, I let the light fall, knowing I needed the darkness to stay alive in this world of shadows, pain and rage.  
  
Orcs behind me were regrouping, turning to come after me. I estimated there were twenty to thirty still left on the slopes, with more coming from below. I smiled grimly as I ducked behind a tree. We might not make it through this unscathed. I'd be OK, but Legolas would not. And damned if I was going to get him this far to lose to these ugly creatures.  
  
The sound of the bow stopped, and I realised he must be out of arrows.  
  
I wondered how close we were to Rivendell, or if it even mattered.  
  
With a sigh, I drove into the orcs that lay between allies; my sword, already dark with blood and squishy things, becoming darker. I felt something slice into the back of my shirt, and thought sadly of losing yet another t-shirt. And it was the last such t-shirt, until I reached civilisation again. Coffee...  
  
Turning, I sent a knife into the orc's throat, then I soldiered on, destroying as I went, no longer caring what sort of noise I made, as long as they died fast. They did.  
  
Legolas met me halfway, his long knife almost as good as my sword. We nodded over the bodies, then turned and melted silently into the shadows as another group came behind me into the passage choked with bodies. They studied their comrades, then seemed to decide on something. One of them ran off the way they'd come. I predicted more orcs were being mustered, and wondered exactly what to do.  
  
If I did magic, it would be like walking up to Sauron and pinching his cheek. Bad idea. I could probably take him, but something told me it wasn't my fight. And it would be showing my hand too soon. I didn't want him knowing a major power had awoken in this land of Middle Earth.  
  
Maybe that was Fate talking. I frowned, leaning against a tree and closing my eyes. I focused below us, reaching for the orcs. They were sort of an oily green to my inner sight. More than fifty were gathering, making ready to come back up to meet us. My body whimpered in weariness. There was no way we would win. I turned to face the area they were in, and pondered my options.  
  
Beyond the orcs lay freedom.  
  
There was forest all down this section of mountain. I pondered that, then looked at the trees around me. They all grew fairly close together, their branches mingling even close to the ground where they were thick.  
  
"Legolas, how's your tree climbing ability?"  
  
He looked at me, then up at the trees; a slow grin touched his lips. "I'm a Sylvan Elf. It's fairly good."  
  
"Wonderful." I quickly leaned over and wiped the sword blade clean on an orc cape, then sheathed it. Next I checked that the remaining knives were secure. "Right. Let's see how this works."  
  
Without another word I hoisted myself into the tree and clambered to about the middle. I then stood on the fairly broad branches. Hanging on to surrounding branches and balancing, I made my way to where the branches of another tree crossed my path. Lightly I stepped over, the branches hardly moving as my weight transferred over. It's good to be able to use TK to make yourself weigh less.  
  
I heard Legolas slip into the tree behind me and walked on to the trunk.  
  
In this softly journeying, sometimes detouring around odd gaps, way, we made our journey down the mountain.  
  
When we came upon the orcs, we moved as silently as possible, and I hoped they wouldn't look up. If they did, we would be screwed. They gathered below the trees, almost a hundred strong now, gabbling amongst themselves as they prepared to charge up the hill after us. I caught a snatch of phrase at one point and almost laughed aloud. They thought I was an elf!  
  
As we left them behind, I didn't relax. Any sound, any movement, and they'd be after us. And, while we were now on the Rivendell side of the orcs, I didn't think we could run for it. Not with them so close.  
  
The night stars rarely twinkled out from behind the clouds as we made our way. I smelled rain on the way and pondered the irritations of the day to come. I briefly considered the knives I'd lost, but then decided not to think about that. I could always buy more. Or make them myself.  
  
It was a lost art, most places, but I could magically create knives. It had saved my life before, and it probably would again. But for now we couldn't stop and spend the half-day meditating that it would take.  
  
Rivendell called, portents and horrors and epic quests to fulfill.  
  
After an exhausting three hours of tree walking, we felt it safe enough to drop back down to earth. For a moment we paused, resting in the darkness. I listened back along our path, feeling for the orcs. They were angry, full of rage that we seemed to have escaped. For now they seemed to be searching further up the mountain. But I was betting they'd be our way by morning.  
  
Legolas looked grave as I told him all of this softly. He looked at the sky, and then at me. "Can you run?"  
  
"If I have to," I replied wearily. This last leg would probably send me into a slight endurance fever, but I was willing to risk it. "How far is it to Rivendell?"  
  
"Another four days."  
  
I closed my eyes, then sighed, "Let's go. I'd rather break a leg than be captured and killed by orcs."  
  
"There would be worse torments before you died."  
  
"Great. I knew I didn't like them."  
  
He led the way, starting off at a ground-devouring slow lope. I followed, the adrenaline slowly fading, but bolstered by other energies. The cloud cover spread a half-light around us, making it less difficult to see than other nights had been. It kept us from breaking our necks in the dark. Always a good thing.  
  
For hours we ran, alternating between a slow jog, and the ground-devouring lope. We ran until I couldn't sense the orcs behind us anymore. Until the sun was beginning to touch the tops of the mountains with a gilding of gold. As it grew lighter, the clouds got thicker and the rain I had dreaded began falling in a slow drizzle.  
  
We stopped for a bit under an overhang. Legolas made me sleep, and I went, too exhausted to protest. My dreams were full of things crawling under the earth, and something buried in the mountains that called itself Gollum. It lost its Precious as I slept, the dream turning back and forth. Sometimes I was Gollum, sometimes Bilbo. The great Eye watched it all, irritated and lost to its Ring.  
  
Legolas woke me at midday, and we ate some waybread then continued on, running towards Rivendell. Orcs didn't have to sleep.  
  
I began losing track of time as the rain poured down on us, soaking us and sending the ground into so much muck and mud. By the time night had fallen again, I was a shivering muddy wreck, unable to do more than jog. Blind to many things, I barely noticed Legolas halting us for a time until he tried to get me to sleep.  
  
"No."  
  
"But you need rest."  
  
"Legolas, I will not be able to." I gritted my teeth, forcing my weary eyes into focus. He was looking at me in concern. "I hear them behind us, making up the time we lose at every stop, at every moment of rest. They run, Legolas. And they do not tire as we do."  
  
He handed me a wafer of bread and I ate it, not even tasting it. Good for me, yes. But I was exhausted beyond endurance. I needed meat and potatoes, and some ale. A nice bottle of vodka and some cherry juice sounded so good. And coffee...  
  
--  
  
I awoke what seemed only several minutes later, my mind vaguely restored and my body screaming for more. The orcs were close behind us now, the hours we had rested giving them time to catch up. "We must go." I croaked, struggling to my feet.  
  
Legolas looked at me, "They are close?"  
  
"Very." I looked to the west, wishing I might see the famous Rivendell there, twinkling in the rain.  
  
He took my hand and led us back out into the rain, heading down the slope. The mud made the footing treacherous, and I fell more than once, garnering more bruises each time. Towards evening Legolas himself fell, getting his blond hair completely grimy. I felt sorry absently, but was more worried that we make it through the night.  
  
The mountainside was coming to an end, though, and level ground would be a welcome change.  
  
A road lay to the south, winding gently between the official mountain pass and the further western downs. I hadn't asked why we had taken the scenic route, but I had guessed it to be slightly less dangerous.  
  
Slightly. There were orcs behind us, and a day's run before us to safety.  
  
The flatness seemed to give me energy, and I began loping, pulling Legolas with me. Scrubby trees accepted us into their refuge, and we went on slightly more stable now that the road was not slanting forward.  
  
Miles went by, we ran in an almost soundless world of rain and trees. Far behind I could feel the orcs slowly breaking off their pursuit, and I wondered if they had other allies in this land. Or if they were afraid of going too close to Rivendell. I decided it was the latter as the land slowly changed, warming slightly, gaining a sense of peace. I was betting it came from Rivendell itself.  
  
It was a welcome feeling after the pain and exhaustion and dirt of the last days. For one thing, I had at least three cracked ribs that I had ignored all this time, and they were slowly coming out to play and make my journeying miserable.  
  
My breath began to come in shorter and shorter gasps as the pain grew, and I guessed that one had punctured a lung after all this time. Not unheard of, when I wasn't able to heal it while well-rested and energised. And the magic blasts I'd called had drained me oddly, a surprise, since at the time I hadn't felt so much drained as energised. But then, I could have been spending too much on You Can't See This shields. Which would explain the sense of not-there-ness I was beginning to feel as we crested a short rise.  
  
Below us lay the road, stretching out to either side. On it galloped a rider on a white horse, white-blonde hair glinting in the half-light.  
  
Legolas released my hand, and I sagged, my energy finally gone. I heard him greet the other, then nothing for a while before I sensed I lay sideways on the back of a horse, Legolas behind me keeping me from falling as the horse made its way down the road.  
  
We topped another rise, and I heard a river. Legolas relaxed behind me, his breath calm, "Imladris. Rivendell. We are safe."  
  
And my mind released me, spiraling down into a comfortable darkness where I knew no more. 


	3. Ill Met By Starlight

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Three: Ill Met By Sunlight  
  
by Galadriel DeTolkien  
  
There was someone watching me.  
  
I jerked awake with shock, reaching frantically for weapons that weren't there. I started pulling magic to me before the sense of safety and calm slammed through my shields and I stopped, panting. Slowly I opened my eyes and turned to face my watcher.  
  
He was small, but not a midget, his features that of a slightly shrunken human. And I knew him. He'd chased my dreams, playing with the golden Ring and stealing it from its original owner. He had aged greatly since then, his dark brown hair now peppered with grey and white.  
  
"It's all right, young lady."  
  
"Who--" I paused, wincing. My throat and lips were parched from disuse, and I wondered how long I had lain in shock sleep. "Water?"  
  
He helped me sit, and I drank cool water that tasted of life and light. Refreshed, I leant back against the pillows and studied him. "You are -?"  
  
"I am Bilbo." He smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. "They sent me to watch you because you needed someone who wasn't threatening. And me, I occasionally napped as you did."  
  
"Ah." I blushed. "Sorry, I tend to be paranoid. I warned Legolas of it that first night, I'm surprised he told no one."  
  
"He did, but there has been no need to wake you."  
  
I knew he was curious, so I extended my hand, "I am Marya. It is nice to meet you, Bilbo."  
  
"Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire." He twinkled at me, "Legolas was fairly close-mouthed about you, where are you from?"  
  
"Oh, here and there." I smiled, knowing it had been evasive. But I rather doubt he'd believe me if I told the truth. "I was in Lorien, last."  
  
"Lorien!" His eyes turned dark with memories. "Ah, the Golden Wood of the Lady. How I should liked to have seen it."  
  
I was sorry he would never be able to do so, but his age sat heavily on his shoulders and I sensed a curious lightness about him. "Only the edge, dear sir. Tell me, what has been occurring since I rather ignominiously collapsed?"  
  
"Two days," He gestured to my arm, "You were badly injured by then. One lung had collapsed, and several ribs were cracked."  
  
I nodded, "Plus I was insanely tired. Is Legolas all right?"  
  
"He is. He says you got the brunt of the hurt in your fight." I recognised the look in Bilbo's eyes, then. He was a Chronicler, one of those who wish to write the histories and record life as it is. "Can you tell me about it?"  
  
"Do we have time?" My lips were smiling, but my eyes were grave, "The ring will be here, won't it?" I looked away from him, brow furrowed, "I can remember that in my dreams... Oh!" I straightened, ignoring the slight pull from still-healing ribs. "Frodo!"  
  
"My nephew? What of him?" Bilbo looked at me, worried.  
  
"He is injured."  
  
"Now, don't that beat all. How do you figure that?"  
  
"Arwen sent word to her father." I winced, "My shields must be thin with the peace of Imladris."  
  
Bilbo steadied me as I stood. Once swaying, I realised that I'd been stripped of my clothes. "Er..." Even the dragon mail was gone, and I was sort of surprised they'd gotten it off.  
  
He handed me a pale green robe, and I wrapped it around myself, belting it. My dizzyness slid away as my body got used to standing again. "Bilbo, you must take me to Elrond."  
  
With only a look at me, he turned and led me through several open-air halls. If I'd had time to look, they would have been beautiful and peaceful, but there was no time. A sense of urgency gripped me and I almost bumped into Bilbo when he stopped at a door. He knocked, and was bade enter.  
  
"I'm sorry, Elrond, but she was insistent."  
  
There were two men in the room, one had his back to me, and I caught a glimpse of silvery hair flowing down his back before I turned to the other. "Sir, I don't mean to intrude, but I heard the message your daughter sent. And I am a healer, as well as a fighter."  
  
"You are... welcome to try." He seemed uncertain of me, as if I might be evil.  
  
I nodded. "Thank you. Tell me, how long have we to wait?"  
  
"They are nearly to the Ford," the other man announced. He turned, and I realised I had seen him in my dreams. "Elrond, if we're to do it, we must go now."  
  
The elf looked at me, then nodded, "Come."  
  
I followed them back out the door, Bilbo trailing slowly behind us. We went up stairs, then down a corridor and came out on a roof that gazed out the other side of the small valley of Rivendell. Below us lay a river, small figures beginning to approach it. They were horsed, nine black riders chasing a white one. I shivered, recognising them as the creatures from the horse dreams Alayna had sent me so long ago.  
  
The lone rider reached the edge of the river and plunged across, turning as it reached the other side. I could sense magic, dark and evil pulling at the passenger on the horse. Other magic mingled nearby, light and happy magic, which knew the earth and land as friends. It spiraled down to the river, touching it, creating shapes.  
  
As the sudden onslaught of water crested and rolled over the black riders, I felt the faltering of life in the small one.  
  
"Frodo..." My vision blackened for a moment, my automatic instinct to reach out and hold that life in balance. I felt something brush his soul, tugging it into another plain. "You shall NOT have him." I hissed, sliding to my knees as I fought against that pull.  
  
A hand touched my shoulder. Bilbo. "Please..." he whispered.  
  
"I am trying." I replied, my eyes still covered in darkness. Sweat began running down my back, and I shivered. "Elrond, get them up here, or take me to him. But, hurry!"  
  
So little time left, slipping away from us all, this small person. He wasn't as young as I'd thought, one of Bilbo's race, a Hobbit.  
  
I lost track of time as I fought to hold him in our world. They brought him to us, though, and we three laid hands upon him. Elrond sang softly in his own tongue, binding Frodo back into his body as Gandalf attempted to heal his shoulder wound. My eyesight had slowly trickled back, and I could see the tiny sword-shard, wriggling its way from shoulder to heart.  
  
"I need a knife." I couldn't even stand, but I wanted to operate. Yeah, I was so sane.  
  
Bilbo handed me a small dagger, worry in his eyes.  
  
"My thanks." I ripped the shirt back from Frodo's shoulder, then made an incision over the wound. Dropping the knife, I lay my palm against it and closed my eyes.  
  
The piece of knife resisted my telekinesis at first, then slowly began to wriggle back along its pathway. As I drew it along, I felt the healing spells the others were casting beginning to take hold. The fragment seemed to sense that, too, and it paused, attempting to break free of me. More sweat dampened the robe I'd been given as I fought this power of darkness.  
  
If nothing else would have convinced me to fight, this would have. The dagger fragment was sucking at the lad's soul, and that just isn't kosher.  
  
A moment more of pulling, and I felt it touch my palm. Quickly I snapped my wrist up, and the fragment followed, hovering above the wound in evil malice. I closed my fist around it, "Namarie." I hissed.  
  
With a sound like shattering glass, it fragmented further into dust, attempting to fall into the wound, but I was already moving my hand away, and the dust fell to the stones of Rivendell and was consumed by the peace there.  
  
I reopened my eyes, and the world began tilting oddly. Bilbo caught me as I sagged back, all my energy spent on this task. "I'm all right. I just need to eat."  
  
Several more elves had joined us on the summit, including Legolas. He glanced at me and grinned, "And you eat like a horse, too."  
  
I smiled weakly. "Only when I've been starved for a week." I looked at Bilbo. "Please? Don't make me go back to bed."  
  
He chuckled, "We shall find you clothing to wear, and then we shall see."  
  
--  
  
We ended up back in the room I had woken up in. Legolas disappeared to find food, while Bilbo pulled some clothing from the small closet. It wasn't mine, and it seemed to be dresses, but I could handle that. For now. Actually, I needed to find something out.  
  
"Bilbo, where did my clothing go?"  
  
"It was all so muddy, I suspect they may have burnt it."  
  
I blinked, "I should hope not. That dragon mail is priceless and is why I only had bruises and cracked ribs."  
  
He seemed startled. "Dragon mail?"  
  
"Yeah." I grinned, "Not made of dragons, but it's named that for the properties it has in repelling everything up to a direct hit from an axe wielded by a 500 pound orc." I winced as I began getting dressed. He turned around, blushing. "In fact, that's why my ribs were cracked."  
  
"Orcs are nasty things."  
  
"Yeah." I found the dress the right length, but a bit tight in certain places. Despite having been starved over the last several days, I was still too buxom in the chest and hips to fit quite properly. In fact, with the low-cut bodice, I almost wasn't decent. "Er, Bilbo, I don't suppose there's a shawl of some sort about?"  
  
My own clothes back would be good, but I was betting the shirt was a rag. The greatcoat probably was, too, considering all the orc blood it had absorbed. I wriggled my bare toes on the tile and felt suddenly silly. I was alive.  
  
He handed me a lace shawl the same green as the dress. I tried draping it and found it somewhat adequate. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." He stepped back and chuckled, "Let's hope that young elf gets back with that food. I'm very hungry, you know."  
  
"I was thinking the same thing." I twinkled back at him.  
  
Legolas came back then, a large tray loaded with soup and bread and some sort of clear drink that tasted of alcohol, but wasn't. Bilbo led us out into the sun, and we sat around the table there, Bilbo comfortably ensconced in a chair built especially for him by someone. I devoured the food as the other two chatted amicably.  
  
They mainly talked of the elves and mutual friends, leaving the darker discussions for after the food was devoured. I was fine with that, needing to take the time and recover some of my reserves.  
  
Magic was plentiful in the air of Rivendell, and I tapped into it, gently weaving strands into my shields and power reservoirs. Some of it was attached to other spells, and I let it be, guessing they were concealment and protection for the elves. It was a happy energy, green and yellow with sunlight and growing things. I felt rested and refreshed as I finished my task, tuning back into the conversation to find Legolas watching Bilbo and I in amusement.  
  
The old hobbit had dozed off, his hands twitching every so often as he dreamed of things we couldn't see.  
  
I checked the chair, then smiled. The crafter had made it perfect for napping in, so I stood, "Show me more of Rivendell, my friend."  
  
Legolas looked surprised, but waited until we were away from Bilbo before replying. "Friend?"  
  
"You saved my life, I would call you such, if you don't mind."  
  
"And you saved mine, yet I find you even more odd than I had thought." He led the way through several lovely gardens and onto a balcony, which overlooked the falls. "I would call you friend, I think. For I sense in you no evil."  
  
"But there is much darkness in her."  
  
We turned and Elrond stepped onto the balcony with us, followed by another. The old man I had seen. In the sunlight he looked tired, and I realised he was less aged than I had first thought.  
  
"If there is darkness in me, it is sadness and grief, not malice or anger." I replied. I turned from them, my thoughts drifting to past friends and loves, "I have lost many in my life. My travels were never peaceful."  
  
"You seem to come in times of need, though." Elrond said, "Which is why we have let you live."  
  
"My thanks." I chuckled, "I do not think you could have killed me, but it makes me easier to know that you wouldn't try."  
  
The older man raised an eyebrow at me, "And what makes you think we wouldn't succeed, young lady?"  
  
"I am Immortal."  
  
They all seemed surprised at that, then Elrond spoke again for them all, "You are not of the race of Elves, you are of the race of Man. How came this to be?"  
  
"You wouldn't believe me." I grinned, "Let's just say it was sort of an experiment on the part of the Gods." My grin faded, "Except that I am not emotionless as they wished."  
  
Elrond seemed satisfied with this. He gestured to Legolas, then nodded to me, "I bid you adieu for now, Lady."  
  
"May the Gods ever smile upon ye, Lord Elrond. Legolas." I nodded to them both, then turned away to watch the falls again. For a long time, I stared at them, my mind patterning back and forth between old friends and this new world I had found. So much seemed clear to me: there would be a quest. Either to find the Ring, or to destroy it. Either way, it was a sure bet the Fates wanted me along. So far I might actually be able to join in.  
  
But there were still doubts in those around me. I could not explain my origins, nor could I let them believe I was all-powerful.  
  
A sound came from behind me, and I turned, startled.  
  
The man had stayed, apparently wanting to speak with me, but not wishing to interrupt my contemplations. He coughed as I stared at him.  
  
It took a moment to realise why, and when I did I found myself blushing for the first time in centuries. The elven dress, so tight across my chest, had slipped, and a nipple was in view for all to see. I tugged at it, fighting the blush back and wondering at the cause. I had derobed in front of Haldir and Bilbo both without even a thought to propriety, why now?  
  
"My apologies, I'm afraid I'm not thin enough to be an elven lady." I said, wrapping the shawl around myself again.  
  
"We have never been introduced," He replied, his eyes twinkling at me. "I am Gandalf the Grey."  
  
For some reason, I felt compelled to give him my full name. "I am Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga." I bowed an intricate court-bow, then chuckled. "And I have far too many years to my name to be blushing, Master Wizard, but there you have it."  
  
"You are a Sorceror yourself." He stated.  
  
"Of a sort. I..." I waved an arm, careful not to let the shawl drop. "I can feel the magic in the air. This place is alive with it. If I were more rested, I think I would spend my life here dancing and eating and drinking with never a care for the world outside."  
  
"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Two hobbits came dashing up the stairs to the balcony, one was slightly slimmer than the other, but they were close enough alike to be brothers. I was betting on cousins, though. "We heard you were here and safe!" announced the stouter one.  
  
"Yes," piped the younger one, "and Frodo is safe, too. Sam says so, and he also says--"  
  
"Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, where are your manners?" demanded Gandalf as they both stopped and stared at me.  
  
I laughed. The sound echoed out into the valley, sending the sunbeams dancing and the magic whirling into laughter itself. "It's all right, my dear, I can see they're excited."  
  
"Gandalf, who is she?"  
  
"Is she an elf?" they spoke over each other, the questions causing me to chuckle.  
  
"No, Pippin, she is not an elf." Gandalf sighed, "Marya, may I present Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, otherwise known as Pippin and Merry."  
  
I bowed gravely, "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. How goes your day?"  
  
"We were being chased by the Nine, and Strider saved Frodo!"  
  
"And then that elf came and took him up on her horse!"  
  
"And *boom* the waters of the rivers rode them down, and we were all safe again!" They finished in unison.  
  
I chuckled, "Sounds an exciting adventure. You must tell me about it at dinner, I think."  
  
Gandalf looked at me, "You have more patience to deal with these scaliwags than I."  
  
"I should, I've many more years of experience with rascals." I grinned at him, "Besides, you're an old rogue and rascal yourself, you're just jealous that they're going to entertain me with stories."  
  
He blushed. Not very much, especially since the beard was in the way. But it was there, and it made up for my own blushing earlier. "You are very silly."  
  
"Thank you." I looked at Merry and Pippin, who had watched this interplay in fascination. "Why don't we go find Bilbo and dinner, eh?"  
  
"Dinner! We haven't even had lunch!" Pippin sounded terribly offended.  
  
"Time for that now, then." Merry decided.  
  
We three tripped merrily down the stairs. At the turning I glanced back to find Gandalf watching our descent, a troubled look on his face. Then he was gone, masked by the curve of the wall.  
  
--  
  
Three days passed until Frodo awoke sufficiently to be feted and feasted. There was merriment that night, but I stayed away, sensing that it was not a place for me. Gandalf found me again on the balcony, watching the falls in the starlight.  
  
"You are a very solitary person."  
  
"There are times solitude saves you from hurt."  
  
"But it gets very lonely."  
  
"I know." I glanced at him, "The Council will discuss things tomorrow, will it not?"  
  
"A secret session."  
  
"Will Boromir be there?"  
  
The man of Gondor had arrived the day after Frodo, looking for answers, and much troubled. I had seen him from a distance, and he had ruled my dreams for two nights. Unfortunately, for once I couldn't remember them. And this troubled me as nothing else had in this new land.  
  
"He shall, he has a question for the Council." Gandalf lit his pipe and began smoking it, the sweet scent drifting around us.  
  
"I have seen him in my dreams."  
  
"Good dreams?"  
  
"That's what is irritating. I know not, having been unable to recall what I dreamt." I smoothed a hand over the rail and sighed. "But I think they were dark, Gandalf. Full of terror and despair. And, the Ring--"  
  
But I wasn't supposed to know of it, nor discuss it. He stiffened, turning to me. "The Ring?"  
  
I knew I could trust him, and so I told him softly of my dreams and visions. Of the history of the Ring that I had seen over the ages. He listened without interruptions, occasionally nodding as if something I'd said agreed with what he knew. When I had finished the recitation with Bilbo's finding of the Ring, he sighed.  
  
"That it had never come to him."  
  
"I know." I laid a hand on his arm, "But he has survived its influence, my friend. He is stronger--all of these hobbits are strong in their own way."  
  
"They will have to be even stronger in the coming months."  
  
"You are going, then?"  
  
He didn't answer for a time, merely smoking and studying the falls as I did. It was a nice silence, full of a kinship. For he and I were old beyond our looks. And young in our hearts. I knew I was the elder, though, but I would never tell him unless pressed. Below us, two figures appeared on one of the more secluded bridges. I recognised the young elven woman who had brought Frodo into our care, but the man I did not.  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Arwen Undomiel and Aragorn son of Arathorn."  
  
I pondered this for a moment, then smiled, "They are in love, are they not?"  
  
He glanced at me sharply.  
  
"It's in their body language, my dear. If her father were watching he would know immediately, too."  
  
"Elrond does know." Gandalf sighed, "He has requested of Aragorn that he regain his throne first, though."  
  
"The King who was lost shall be reborn." I said softly.  
  
"Indeed." He chuckled, "You have guessed much more than even Elrond has, my dear."  
  
"Bad habit."  
  
"Don't lose it." Gandalf turned serious. "The Ring must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. We will take it there, and it will end Sauron's reign."  
  
"Sounds spiffy. When do we leave?"  
  
"You're not going."  
  
"Try and stop me. Fate sent me to this world in a time of great need. It is always so, and always damned cliched, Gandalf the Grey. But I cannot ignore that call. I have in the past and my grief and loss were great." I straightened, the white dress I wore shimmering in the moonlight. "I am Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga, and the Gods made me to be their troubleshooter. So, either I go, or Elrond tries to keep me here and I follow you."  
  
A smoke ring slipped over my shoulder and dissipated into the night. I stood, still as a statue, awaiting the answer that must come.  
  
"Very well."  
  
--  
  
I let them hold the Council without me. I knew what I needed to know, and besides, I had dragon mail to rustle up. It would take them some time to get the full story of the Ring out, and I would know when it ended. Pippin had promised to come find me when it looked to be winding down. I was saddened to not get to see Frodo or Sam yet, but the two had been closeted away as Frodo healed.  
  
My path of quest led me into a root cellar, where a young elf was polishing a stack of armour.  
  
"Excuse me, sir."  
  
He looked up at me, startled. "Yes?"  
  
"I was wondering if you could tell me the whereabouts of the mail that I was wearing?"  
  
"Mail?"  
  
"It actually doesn't look like mail. It's black mesh, looks almost like stiff material."  
  
"I... let me get the arms master."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He scurried away to return a short while later with a taller elf, who looked considerably more arrogant and certain of himself. "My apprentice says you were looking for something?"  
  
And you're not supposed to be, his tone implied. "Why, yes. I'm looking for the odd suit of armour I was wearing when they brought me in. I was told it had been turned over to you as an oddity."  
  
"Oh. That." He scowled, "I'm afraid I can't release that."  
  
"Realllly." I crossed my arms and smiled, "The mail was a gift to me from a very good friend. If you do not return it, I shall have to retrieve it." And my sword. And my knives. And more knives would be good.  
  
He snickered, "You do not frighten me, human woman."  
  
I blinked. "You're an idiot." His apprentice gasped at my offence. I ignored him and stepped up to the arms master. "I can either go through you or around you. Decide."  
  
"This is--"  
  
"Oh, fuck this." I slammed a hand into his chest, shoving him to the side. "I don't have time for you, you pompous twit." I stalked past him and into the armoury, where I stopped, admiring the lines of weapons. "Nice stash you have here. Now, where would I be if I were an unknown artefact?"  
  
By the time the arms master had gotten over his shock (and the teenytiny little paralysis spell I'd set on him) I had not only found the mail, but my knives, sword and empty sheathes as well. He came in after me, anger in his face.  
  
"I found what I was looking for, sweetie, but thanks." I slipped around him, snickering as he avoided my touch. "Try being polite next time, hon. It works wonders."  
  
As I sauntered back out in the sunlight, I patted the apprentice on the head. "Don't worry, you'll be fine." 


	4. Perilous Journey

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Four: Perilous Journey  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
Pippin found me strapping the last of my knives on. "They seem to be winding down, Lady Rainbow."  
  
"Thanks." I grinned and followed him, the blackness of the mail contrasting with the pastel of Rivendell. The hobbits had dubbed me Lady Rainbow after seeing me in sunlight, with my hair down to my waist. It was every colour of the rainbow, including black and white. And it shimmered in good light. They'd been entranced about that, and highly amused when I objected to the name at first. I was resigned to it, now.  
  
We found Merry standing behind the door that led into the garden. Men, elves and dwarves were all standing, staring at Frodo. A moment later, Aragorn and Gandalf joined him. Then Boromir and Legolas did. From the bushes behind them, Sam came dashing out to proclaim loudly that HE was going, too.  
  
"Eh." hissed Pippin, "They're going to forget us!"  
  
And he and Merry dashed out down the path, to the consternation of Elrond. I followed behind them at a more leisurely pace, and came into the clearing as Elrond proclaimed, "Nine of you comprise this Fellowship of the Ring. Nine stalwart companions, against Nine Riders."  
  
I chuckled, "I'm all for numerology and symbolism, but you're off by one. The Fellowship will comprise ten."  
  
The sunlight caused my hair to glint in all its multi-coloured glory. The mail was a glittering black masterpiece, coating my body and emphasizing every curve. The sword that hung at my hip had seen many a battle. I presented a striking figure next to all of these men who stood in cloaks and pale colours, and I knew it.  
  
Elrond blinked at me, "I do not know why you have come, but I think that you should not go with the Fellowship."  
  
"Let me guess: lots of pain, terror, walking, eating only a little, and possible death at the end." I chuckled, "My dear sir, I have seen far worse. I am going."  
  
"She is a good companion for battle." Legolas spoke up, "I have seen her in action, my Lord."  
  
"And she is an enchantress as well, I see." Elrond smiled at me. "Very well, you shall go with them. For before all, I name you Marya Luthien, elf-friend and member of the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
I bowed the most intricate court-bow I knew, "My thanks, Lord Elrond. Your faith shall not be misplaced."  
  
"And now, if the Fellowship would retire and begin packing for the journey, we will make up provisions for you." Elrond clapped his hands and the Council disbanded, the many peoples going off to help prepare for the Quest. He turned to me, an eyebrow raised, "We must see about finding you appropriate outer garments."  
  
"Green or black trews, tunic and cloak would be fine." I replied, following him as he left the small patio. "A dress would merely slow me down, and that's not why I'm going."  
  
"I'm sure we can find clothing in your size." He glanced at the mail and blinked, "I am highly puzzled by the substance you're now wearing."  
  
"It's a form of mail." I answered. "Useful against sword blows and such."  
  
"Ah." He turned a corner, "Let's get you provisioned."  
  
--  
  
My last night in Rivendell. And I had nightmares.  
  
I awoke, nearly screaming, and lay panting in the dark for a long time, trying desperately to sort out what I'd seen. Massive death and destruction, and the Dark Lord triumphant.  
  
And something else. Something I had seen long ago, and felt again as I entered the Council.  
  
The ring.  
  
Glittering and gold, tempting and perilous. As I thought of it, whispers began echoing in my mind, and I realised what the dreams had been about.  
  
Portents and visions of the ring. The futures IT wanted. What it saw as it triumphed over every living creature.  
  
With a shudder, I began weaving a shield. It would have to be carefully dense and thick, so as to absorb the whispers that insinuated themselves so temptingly into the mind.  
  
And I wasn't even sure it would work for all of the Fellowship.  
  
I just had to hope.  
  
--  
  
Once provisioned, the Fellowship set out on the journey south. We spent our days walking and our nights companionably sleeping in the stillness of an open land. I had found green and black pants and a grey tunic which blended me into the area around. Legolas had retrieved his own bow, as well as getting one for me. Aragorn had one of his own. We were as well armed as we could be, for now. Even Gandalf carried a sword, calling it Glamdring.  
  
The other members of the company were slightly unsure of me, especially Gimli, the dwarf. His stolid presence and sense of humour usually grated on me, but I bore it, knowing we needed him. Aragorn merely watched me occasionally, when he thought I wasn't looking. Even with Gandalf's reassurances, he was certain I would provide the ruin of this company. Frodo and Sam fell in with my wit as Merry and Pippin had; even in the bleak wilderness, the laughter of hobbits could be heard merrily echoing into the distance. It was a good thing, I think, though Gandalf tended to mutter darkly about it.  
  
We ignored him.  
  
Boromir, I tried not to touch, knowing from more vivid dreams that his death would occur at some point in the near future. I could not tell him, since to do so might make it worse. Besides, who wants to know when they're going to die?  
  
One afternoon we were sprawled about a large fall of stones, cheerfully engaged in various tasks. Boromir was showing Merry and Pippin some passes with their small swords, Gandalf was smoking in contemplation of the journey ahead, and I was perched on the highest rock, cross legged and enjoying the breeze and sunlight.  
  
I heard a call from Legolas, and cracked an eye. To the south, something was coming, a dark shadow that moved swift and sure. "Damn." I hopped off the rock and got under cover as the rest were scrambling to do. I ended up curled next to Gandalf, my face very near to his.  
  
The crows passed over us, their calls high and piercing. I lay there, intent on not doing something I would later regret. After all, just because Gandalf was virile and intelligent and charming and amusing didn't mean he'd welcome my advances.  
  
Well, he probably wouldn't.  
  
"Oh, to hell with caution," I muttered as the crows continued flying around our position. I leaned forward and gently kissed him.  
  
For a moment, he seemed startled, then his lips took over, kissing me back. For a moment. Then Pippin hopped over the brush.  
  
"They're gone, Gandalf!" He cried, then he paused, staring at us as I hastily drew back, trying to pretend nothing had occurred. "Strider says they're watching the south."  
  
"Hrm. Yes." Gandalf stood, "We shall make for the pass of Caradhras! I only hope it isn't closed to us," he muttered.  
  
For the rest of the day, I kept to rear guard, avoiding Gandalf as much as humanly possible. He did the same, leading at the front. I don't think the others noticed, except Aragorn and Frodo, and both of them had the decency to be silent on the matter. I caught Pippin looking at me oddly once or twice, but chalked it up to my occasional tuneless whistling.  
  
That night we camped in a small hollow, and Pippin and I drew first watch together. I stood on the edge of camp, listening and watching quietly.  
  
Pippin waited until he was sure the others were asleep, then tapped me on the arm. I knelt down, "Yes?"  
  
"You were kissing Gandalf," he whispered.  
  
"To my folly, I find him attractive." I sighed, "It must be the wizardness. Or maybe the sword. Ah, lust, thy name is irritation."  
  
He chuckled, "If it helps any, I have caught him looking at you with the most peculiar expression."  
  
"Probably wonders how to get rid of me easily."  
  
"I think he's wondering what you see in him. After all, he is an old man."  
  
"Seasoned. And age means lots of experience." I grinned a bit salaciously. "I should know, I'm nearing..." I paused, trying to recall. "Almost two thousand, I think."  
  
His eyes rounded in the moonlight, "You're that old?"  
  
"I'm very well-preserved." I sighed. "Go to sleep, Pippin."  
  
For a moment I thought he'd object, pointing out that we had set two to a watch on purpose. Then he seemed to sense my weariness and nodded, curling up in his cloak. Soon the only sound I could hear was the vague snores of the Fellowship.  
  
I let the darkness fold around me, dropping into a light trance and setting wards that would be undetectable by even Gandalf if he'd been standing on one while wide awake. The night slowly turned, the stars dancing in the heavens as my friends slept. Friends? They felt like friends, in a way. I was willing to lay my life down for them all. For this quest to succeed. Others hadn't, this would make up for them.  
  
As dawn lit the tips of the mountains, I stirred, sliding back into firm reality. I felt rested, as if I'd slept the night through rather than stood guard over people who barely knew me. I wondered if my sleep would have been plagued with nightmares and portents.  
  
Probably. Fate isn't fond of me.  
  
Aragorn awoke and scrambled to his feet, puzzled at the lightness of the air. "You did not wake me for my shift."  
  
"I felt no need to." With a twist of my shoulders, I began moving, waking my stiff muscles and bones.  
  
"You haven't slept."  
  
"I am nearly refreshed." I yawned in reflex, my ears clearing. "I think it's time for breakfast."  
  
He chuckled. "You've been talking to Pippin too much."  
  
I smiled at the sleeping hobbit fondly, "Probably."  
  
--  
  
We traveled up the mountain, buffeted by wind and then snow. It was hard going for all of us, even Legolas. It was beautiful country, though, and had I the time, I would have enjoyed it immensely. Instead, I began to loathe it as the snow got deeper and the paths steeper. Bill the pony kept up only by dint of Sam's coaxing.  
  
I kept the rear-guard, avoiding Gandalf and Boromir both in one fell swoop. Pippin was my ever-faithful companion, amusing me with stories of the Shire and the hobbits' journey to Rivendell. I also employed what I could to muddy our trail. Legolas, Aragorn and Gandalf left very little trail, but Boromir, Gimli and four hobbits, try though they might, left enough for us to be found easily.  
  
Muddying the trail was something I had picked up centuries before. It was useful when you didn't want to be found.  
  
Aragorn watched me at work and seemed to approve of my methods.  
  
When it began to snow, I noticed that Legolas walked lightly on the crust of it. I could have done that, but didn't want to waste the time.  
  
As the snow got deeper, the way was more treacherous. We began to spread out, Gandalf away in the lead with Merry leading Bill and Gimli close behind. Then Pippin and Sam, with Boromir behind them. And Frodo and Aragorn in front of me. It seemed to work well, until Frodo slipped and slid down one perilous slope.  
  
Aragorn quickly caught him, steadying them both for a moment. I breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Boromir turned to see what the commotion had been about, and I suddenly realised Frodo had lost the ring on its chain to the snow. It lay in the sun, glittering goldly up at the Gondorman. He stared at it for a moment, then bent over and picked it up.  
  
A tension went through Aragorn as Boromir stood there, his eyes dark with dreams. I moved to the side, in preparation of a strike.  
  
"Give Frodo the ring, Boromir."  
  
"It's such a little thing," he whispered in reply, his eyes shining oddly. Then he seemed to shake himself, and laughed. He came closer and handed the ring to Frodo. "Keep this safe, lad."  
  
Without another comment, he moved back up the path, struggling through the snow. In front of me, Aragorn relaxed and released the pommel of Anduril. He set Frodo on his feet. "Let's go on."  
  
I stood there for a time, pondering what I had seen. And shivering, for I knew Boromir had a larger part to play. I couldn't just kill him, sadly.  
  
--  
  
Bill the pony hated Caradhras. Which was OK, because the mountain hated all of us. Halfway to the pass with a sheer drop on our left, and high wall of snow to our right, we finally turned back. Not after a fight, of course. But Saruman had cast spells against us and caused an avalanche that buried us under feet of snow.  
  
It was one of the things I hadn't warded us against. Physical attack. In the form of orcs or goblins, we'd've been fine. But Saruman must have known the route we would take in the mountains, and been watching.  
  
I dug myself from the drift and sent a quick blast of magic down the path Saruman's spells had come from. It splashed against well-made shields, but gave the newly proclaimed Mage of Many Colours something to think about.  
  
While I had been striking backwards along the trail, a conversation had begun among my companions. It was quickly decided to go back the way we'd come. This was too dangerous, there were too many chances for us to fall to our deaths.  
  
We would travel though the Mines of Moria.  
  
Gimli was ecstatic, proclaiming his glee that his cousin Balin would feast us and throw huge parties, and make our journey through Moria as a vacation.  
  
But I saw Gandalf's eyes for a moment, and I worried that this was the wrong choice.  
  
--  
  
Nearly a week was lost in trying the pass of the Redhorn Gate at Caradhras. Luckily, the entrance to Moria was only half a day's journey from that snow-covered mountainside.  
  
As we approached, Gandalf was startled to find a lake inhabiting the valley he claimed should have been there. The lake filled the entire bowl, far in the distance we could see the 'gates' of Moria, huge black slabs of stone that rose into the mountain above. We skirted the northern edge of the lake, and I realised as we slipped and squelched along that something wanted no comers to Moria.  
  
We reached the gates a little before sunset. Up close, the walls were intricately carved, almost seamless in their grandeur. Unfortunately, there was no way of telling how to get in.  
  
Gandalf suddenly chuckled, "We must wait for starlight."  
  
And so a much needed rest was decreed. The hobbits cast themselves tiredly to the ground and I followed suit, stretching full-length on the rocky bank.  
  
Boromir came to stand over me, "You're as odd as I'd heard."  
  
"Thank you." My back finished unkinking, and I sighed happily.  
  
"But isn't it difficult to fight an attacker from down there?"  
  
I blinked up at him, then moved, shoving against the rocks with my shoulders as I whipped my legs up in a scissor-kick. I tapped his nose with one foot, then continued the roll, landing on my feet in a crouch. "Not really. If I'd wanted, I could have kicked your head off."  
  
"You are..." He seemed at a loss for words.  
  
"Odd. Yes. You said."  
  
Gandalf called us all back together, then, and we beheld the starlight of Moria, as the inscriptions of the gates erupted into luminescence.  
  
It was beautiful, wondrous, and many more lovely descriptive words. I was too tired to think. I left it to Gandalf and Frodo to puzzle out how the gates opened and went to help unload Bill.  
  
The pony had faithfully held our baggage until now, and I was sad to lose him.  
  
"The mines are no place for a pony, Sam." Aragorn was saying softly as I approached.  
  
"He's right." I noted, swinging a pack to the side.  
  
"Oh, I know. It just hurts having to say goodbye--and I'm that worried about him. Wolves and worse things are out there a-hunting for us."  
  
I laid a hand against the pony's side for a moment, then smiled. "There. He's safe now, Sam."  
  
"How do you figure that?"  
  
"I've laid a spell to repel would-be carnivores on him. He should be fine all the way back to Rivendell and beyond."  
  
"Gosh. You really are a Sorcerer, or a Wizard, like old Gandalf."  
  
"Yes." I glanced at Aragorn. "But not a very powerful one. I've just been doing it for a long time."  
  
The dark-haired man nodded and moved away to check on the others. He stopped Pippin from throwing stones into the lake, and a silent menace began registering at the edge of my senses. I pulled Sam closer to the others, helping to distribute the packs as Gandalf finally realised the riddle and opened the gates of Moria.  
  
Gimli was the first into the dark gaping maw of the entrance, he cheerfully called over his shoulder as Gandalf followed him, "Once we've identified ourselves, my cousin Balin will be glad to see us!"  
  
Aragorn and Boromir followed, with the hobbits behind them.  
  
I followed last, careful. For a stench as of death and decay was assailing my nostrils, and I began to guess that not all had gone well for Balin and his stalwart dwarves. Moria and they had fallen long ago, and evil breathed in their place.  
  
"It's a tomb!" Boromir gasped as the light from Gandalf's staff illuminated the pitiable remains of many dwarves and other creatures.  
  
Moria was littered with the unburied dead, their bodies twisted as if pain had been their last thought. Many were unknown to me, and I guessed them to be orcs. I shivered and found Frodo at my side, backing out and away from the silent horror.  
  
"We should never have come here," Boromir sniped.  
  
I snorted, "We would not have survived Caradhras with Saruman dogging our every move."  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it, angry that I was right and he unable to refute me.  
  
And then Frodo cried out in alarm. I turned to find him being dragged back out the door, into the lake, a tentacle around his ankle.  
  
"Aragorn! Boromir! Strider!" The remaining hobbits yelled in alarm.  
  
I was moving, sword out as another tentacle grabbed Pippin. I sliced through it and the next three as Aragorn and Boromir entered the water after Frodo. By luck they retrieved him and I hacked another limb before Legolas called for me to duck. I did and he rained arrows on the hideous creature while we retreated into Moria.  
  
For a moment, I thought us safe and then the body heaved itself out of the lake and came after us. The gates of Moria shattered and we ran, the roof falling behind us to bury the entrance and creature forever.  
  
-- 


	5. Minor Follies

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Five: Minor Follies  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
The dust settled in the darkness around us, then Gandalf's staff slowly began glowing again. I realised he'd set a crystal in the top and wondered if witchlights would work. Experimentally, I held out my flattened palm and called light. A tiny silver ball popped into existence. I tossed it in the air and it stayed when it hit the apex of the toss. "Cool."  
  
Gandalf was staring at me, as were the others. I shrugged, "I didn't know I could do that." I heard a squelching sound as Boromir shifted, and blinked. "However, I do know I can dry clothes. So, if you gentlemen will give me a moment of your time..."  
  
For a moment, they looked at me, then Aragorn shrugged and stepped towards me. "Do your worst."  
  
"I'll do my best." I closed my eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was wet and cold, the skin underneath it shivering slightly. It would be a bad idea for the two of them to continue in this way. Cold and shivering swordsmen tend to have bad reflexes.  
  
It took a moment, and then the shoulder was dry, normal skin heat filtering through the clothing. I released Aragorn and grabbed onto Boromir, performing the same trick. "There."  
  
Gandalf was watching me again, his eyes surprised. I grabbed a ball of witchlight and 'handed' it to Sam, "Here. I'll take rear guard."  
  
We set out, Gandalf leading the way with the top of his staff alight with silver. The others followed, Sam next to Frodo and Aragorn behind them. Boromir and Gimli and Legolas, next. Merry and Pippin were in front of me, Pippin occasionally looking back at me. I caught an oddness in them all and realised sadly that they were all a bit frightened of me now. I hadn't even done anything particularly scary, either.  
  
It wasn't like I had raised the dead, or brought down a mountain, or, Gods forbid, destroyed a city. Maybe I was just an unknown. I realised I didn't want them thinking badly of me, and blinked.  
  
I should have been used to it, but I wasn't. Even after all these centuries, I just wanted to get along with everyone and not be feared. It was why I'd never tried to be anything other than human. It was damned hard, sometimes. I was insanely powerful. And I couldn't let myself reach that potential or I'd go insane. Or just be left alone as people left me.  
  
The dead left me, too. I shivered in the darkness of Moria and wondered at my morbid thoughts. I had Alayna, I should be happy. Except I missed her, off in her happy grasslands for the time being. I sighed and realised I was beginning to lag behind.  
  
Something behind me chuckled to itself in the darkness, and I whirled, eyes searching for that scrabbling noise. Whatever it was had already hidden by the time my eyes crossed its path, and I sighed.  
  
I was really getting stupid. Jumping at shadows and feeling depressed over nothing.  
  
With a snort, I turned and jogged after the others, catching up with Pippin quickly. He glanced at me and grinned. I smiled back.  
  
--  
  
It had been two days since we had entered the long darkness of Moria. Gandalf had predicted four days, but I was betting it would be less. The close dark was taking its toll on the others, and I frequently caught the hobbits (especially) looking into the lightless corners of the tunnels with terror in their hearts. I did my best to hearten them with pats on the back and my wordless reassurance as rear-guard. Even the witch lights didn't help, and the second night I had sent them dancing around our small bivouac. The changing colours and speed hadn't done more than caused a slight Oooh and Aaah.  
  
But we continued through Moria, since the only way out was through.  
  
We entered a hall, the sound of our footsteps echoing into some vast area above us, and Gandalf allowed as that it might be safe for a little more light.  
  
As the luminescence strengthened, I began to get a better feel for the size of Moria, and this hall that we stood in. It was vast, the ceiling that felt almost a mile above my head, and as I finally could see the fashion of the carvings around us, I was amazed. Massive stone pillars were carved in intricate designs that bespoke of beauty and grace. It echoed the lightness I had seen in Rivendell, but made it thicker, yet it was just as lovely.  
  
"Wow." I turned in a slow circle, looking around myself in wonder as the others did likewise. A tear slid down my cheek. Such majesty and magnificence, forever ruined by darkness. I moved and sank down on one knee in front of Gimli. "I have an apology to make, my friend. I did not know that your people could make things so beautiful."  
  
He chuckled, "They wrought much did my brethren of old. Moria was just one of them. O! For the lost wisdom of the Darrow-delf!"  
  
"If it should come back, it will be you that finds it."  
  
"You are sweet with your compliments, Lady." But I could see I had moved him.  
  
I smiled, "I tell only what I see, sir. And you are intelligent and a lover of wonder. Both of those are the cornerstones of learning such vast arts."  
  
Aragorn stood next to us, and now he looked down at me, his eyes dark, "They should call you Lady Glib."  
  
"They have, once in a while." I stood, my smile still in place.  
  
"Oi!" Gimli glared at the man. "You have sullied the honour of the Lady."  
  
"Nay Gimli, he does not tell me anything I haven't heard before." I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend, all will come right in the end."  
  
As he moved away, I turned to Aragorn. I was suddenly tired, exhausted at keeping the lure of the Ring from whispering in the minds of the company. "You still do not trust me. It is as you should, but I tire of it, my dear."  
  
"You come from nowhere you will say, how shall I not distrust you?"  
  
"Don't they say actions speak louder than words?" I shook my head and sighed, "You would never believe me were I to tell you my origins. Instead, I leave you in shadow and suspicion. For I suspect Gandalf wishes to move off again."  
  
And I left him to return to my place at the back of the company.  
  
--  
  
Later that day, or night. At this point, it was hard to tell what it was like outside. We found a room, light pouring in from a high window. OK. It was day.  
  
The light illuminated the cover of a large stone sarcophagus, and Gimli broke from the Company, crying in horror. We followed him, curious to know what was to do. And worried that his cries might attract attention, I wove a quick soundproofing spell on the door as I walked through it. Now all sounds in the room would stay there and not echo out into the Great Hall, or beyond.  
  
We spread out into the small room, Gimli prostrating himself on the sarcophagus. Gandalf found a book and began reading from its pages. They fell apart as he moved them, and I wondered what knowledge might once have been contained there. The tomb belonged to Balin son of Dalin, Gimli's cousin. They had fought to the last, barred in this room as they listened to drums sounding in the deep. I looked away to the window.  
  
It was Pippin who I should have been watching, however. For he tipped a skeletal body down the well in the corner, and the sound echoed for what seemed like hours.  
  
"Fool of a Took! Next time send yourself down there and save us all a lot of bother."  
  
We relaxed as nothing happened. And then it came. A deep booming noise, as if far away drums were beaten in signal.  
  
The drumming died away and others answered, deep sounds which penetrated into our very bones as they echoed through the room. I turned to the door and ripped the soundproofing spell off of it.  
  
More drumming came from the great hall and I swore softly. Frodo caught my arm and held out his sword. It was glowing blue. "Bilbo said it would do that if orcs were around."  
  
I nodded. "Thanks, lad."  
  
"We're trapped."  
  
"Shut up." I snapped at Boromir.  
  
"Let them come!" Gimli roared, "There is still one dwarf in Moria alive to oppose them!" He jumped atop the sarcophagus, axes at the ready.  
  
I grinned, then pulled my sword, following Gandalf and Boromir in putting ourselves between the hobbits and the doorway. Boromir stuck his head out the opening and nearly got it shot for his pains. "Oh, great. They've got a cave troll!"  
  
"Bar the doors!" Aragorn cried, and he moved to fit action to word, shoving one side of the double doors closed. Boromir closed the other, and I sheathed my sword to toss them long pieces of wood to wedge it closed with. There had once been a bar, it had shattered when the orcs overran the room the last time. This time, ax shafts held it together.  
  
Outside, I could hear them coming, as if a crowd of metal fans were beating guitars against rock, the din nearly deafening.  
  
As we finished, the first orc hit the door and we backed away hastily into a loose formation. Boromir and Gandalf were on the right, their swords out and steady. Aragorn and Legolas stood between them and me, arrows nocked and bows held steady. Behind us, the hobbits held their own swords, awaiting the deadly assault with fear in their minds. I tossed two more witchballs into the air, knowing we'd need all the light we could get.  
  
With speed, the orcs broke through in two places, and well-placed bowshot killed several before the barrier disintegrated. And the ferocity of the orcs rushed in intent on our deaths.  
  
I lost track of the others almost immediately as I swung into the first orc-neck, severing the head from its shoulders. Another was behind it, and another behind it. Parry, thrust, hack, slash. I threw knives and punches. One knocked me down and I rolled, picking up an ax-shaft, slamming it up into his breastplate and out the back.  
  
A whirlwind of death and destruction, I kept my weapons on the physical plain, keeping any magic in reserve for bigger things.  
  
In my bloodlust, I danced right out of the room and into the open, where I continued, ending at one point surrounded by nearly twenty orcs. I danced and lashed, kicked and bit. And then something slammed into my side, something so huge I had no chance to avoid it and went flying into a pillar, my head hitting with a sickening crack.  
  
Stars danced in my vision as I had danced upon the field of battle, and then I knew no more.  
  
--  
  
My head hurt. It ached as if I'd been beaten bloody and then rolled down a huge rocky slope to land in a river of blood. Of course, the last hadn't happened. Movement echoed in the tunnels all around me, and I woke completely with a growl.  
  
The orc carrying me growled back.  
  
Idiots. My hands were untied, and the only thing missing from my person was my sword.  
  
With a fumbling movement, I slid a knife into the back of my carrier. I did my best to fall away from his body as it fell, and I did pretty good, ending up on my feet with a knife in each hand and twenty orcs all staring at me in shock.  
  
They all had swords, too.  
  
"Can't we talk about this?"  
  
They snarled, baring teeth in bad need of a dentist at me.  
  
"Are you sure, because, there's going to be violence. And bloodshed. And, y'know, pain. Lot's of it. And it isn't going to be mine."  
  
One of them stepped towards me, growling.  
  
"Guess not."  
  
I fight really dirty when cornered. Especially when I don't have to worry about hitting my own comrades with anything. Thrown knives, knees in the crotch, fingers in eyeballs... Oh, yeah, and huge concussive fireballs.  
  
Gotta love being a mage.  
  
Within a minute I was jogging back towards the others, my senses homing in on the traces I detected from the witchlights. I found my sword a couple feet from the door of Balin's Tomb (as I was calling it), and picked it up, checking it for any damage.  
  
As there was none, I continued on into the chamber, and got an arrow in the shoulder. "FUCK!" I glared at Legolas, who was looking abashed. "Dammit, I'm on your side, you idiot." I pulled the quarrel from my shoulder and glared at the hole in my shirt. "And I'm going to get a bruise, too."  
  
I was whining and I knew it. But my head still hurt--more so, since I'd used so much flagrant magic. And the orcs would be back once they got over their shock. It was about then that I noticed the body of the cave troll. Merry lay next to it, and I swore again before dropping to my knees at his side.  
  
A quick healing probe proved him alive and well, save a few cracked ribs. I immediately set them to reknitting properly, and stood up again. "Who else is hurt?"  
  
"Frodo." Aragorn was kneeling at the hobbit's side, worry in his face.  
  
I moved to kneel next to him, readying another probe, "What happened?"  
  
"This happened," Pippin said, holding up a huge boar-spear.  
  
I winced and started to reach out to Frodo, when he awoke gasping. "Are you all right?"  
  
He winced and sat up, "I think so."  
  
"But how can this be?" Aragorn demanded, "That blow would have killed a wild boar."  
  
Frodo carefully pulled back his shirt, revealing something shiny. I blinked, sensing that the stuff was familiar, but not why.  
  
"Mithril!" Gimli cried, "This hobbit has more to him than meets the eye!"  
  
"Aye. Good for him, too." Aragorn replied, helping Frodo stand.  
  
The hair on the back of my neck began twitching, and I stood, sword out. "We should leave, they're regrouping."  
  
While the others regathered themselves, I grabbed several orc-knives from those littered about. I'd lost several of my own, and until I could get more made, these would have to do. I sighed as I cleaned them and sheathed them in various places.  
  
"To the bridge we must go," Gandalf said. "It must be a quick journey. Follow me!"  
  
He sprang through the doorway, Boromir close behind him and Legolas behind the Gondorman. Gimli and the hobbits came next, then Aragorn and I brought up the rear. I tossed another ball of witchlight up to join the three already there.  
  
I could hear them coming as we ran, teeth and claws ticking along the stone as they swarmed out of every nook and cranny, gathering us within a circle halfway to freedom. We circled ourselves, the hobbits in the middle.  
  
Closer and closer the orcs crept, and I pondered the advisability of a massive fireball. With the height of the ceiling, it might even get hot enough to melt the rock under their very feet.  
  
Before I could start work on that, something far down by Balin's Tomb boomed. The sound echoed into the floor, shivering up my legs and into my mind. I gasped at the evil that seemed to just *seep* into everything around us as the sound came again.  
  
The orcs gave a frightened sound and scattered back into hiding, leaving us standing in a pool of light with something beginning to drift towards us. I couldn't see anything but a dim reddish light, but my mind tried not to deal with the feeling that came from it. Like slippery glass shards all covered in oil and worse things, I felt almost unclean for merely being under the same mountain with it.  
  
And I wondered why I hadn't sensed it before.  
  
"Y'know," I said conversationally, "when orcs run from something, it might be a good idea to follow their example." I resheathed my sword with a soft chime.  
  
"What new deviltry is this?" Boromir asked softly.  
  
"'Tis a Balrog. And it's beyond any of your ken." Gandalf was staring at the approaching light, his face drawn, "We should run. Now! To the bridge of Khazaad-dum!"  
  
We ran.  
  
The hall passed around us, the giant pillars illuminated, then falling behind as we zipped by. Behind us, I could sense the whatever-it-was beginning to pick up speed, and I decided I didn't want it following us if I could help it. In this case the 'enemy of my enemy' was NOT my friend.  
  
We hit a small opening, and Gandalf led us into it. I caught Aragorn's arm, "Go on, I'll follow in a moment!"  
  
I turned without waiting for an answer and raised my arms, beginning to spin a physical shield over the opening. It would keep anything from coming through for a while, hopefully. It depended on how strong this thing was, and whether it was smart enough to figure out that it could go around the shield. Well, if it could break stone we might be screwed.  
  
Once finished, I ran on, tracing my witchlights through several passages and out onto a ledge. To my left, the wall fell out into the deep pit below me. To my right, a small stairway led downwards. I took it, my feet skipping every other step as I hastened after my companions.  
  
The shield had taken more time than I'd thought it would, and as I neared the witchlights, I realised that the creature was causing an instability in the ceiling above us. Huge chunks of masonry were falling, some had already destroyed a small patch of the stairs, and I jumped across, to find that it turned sharply to my left.  
  
This section spanned the whole chasm, and I gulped as I realised that there was barely any of it left. Beyond the chasm, I saw the others looking at me, worried.  
  
Behind me, I felt the shield shatter as the whatever it was blasted it with dark magic. "Oh, flonq."  
  
I stepped back to the wall, gauging the distance. I would make it. Maybe. With a shrug, I ran forward, trying to build up speed in five steps. And then I jumped, flattening my body out and arcing up and over the huge gap. I was lucky the other end was below the upper.  
  
"Oof." I scrabbled at the stone, trying not to fall back into the pit, and felt hands grabbing me, pulling me to my feet.  
  
"This way!"  
  
As we sped into another archway, I sensed the evil following us, gaining. Gandalf joined me at the rear, looking worriedly over his shoulder.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"The Balrog."  
  
I had no clue what that was, really. Other than something very very nasty which I didn't want to face. And I didn't want to take the time to ask. Behind us the gap closed and I sensed that we would barely make it. If we were lucky. Ahead of us, the way opened out into a huge chasm, deeper than the last one, and wider.  
  
The bridge that spanned it was a thin tooth of stone, barely wide enough for one person to cross. Without stopping, they began to cross it, and Gandalf pushed me ahead of him onto it. No time to look down, no time to worry about falling into that deep darkness, I ran, my feet finding the way without prompting.  
  
I turned as I reached the other side. Gandalf had stopped in the centre of the bridge and turned to face the Balrog as it broke through the last archway and stood up to its full height above him. It was fire and darkness and evil, all wrapped in a huge monstrosity that might once have been something good. But I doubted it.  
  
As I watched, it raised a huge lance of fire, preparing to smash down on Gandalf. The wizard raised his staff and Glamdring, and cried, "You shall not pass!" A dome of white power appeared around him, shining into the darkness like a beacon of hope.  
  
The lance shattered on the dome, both dissipating into the ether around us. I thought about helping him, but knew this was his task, his job.  
  
Besides, saving everyone's asses wasn't my job this time. This was a Quest, and I merely a player in it, there to keep people from dying and move things along... But I was not the one who would win in the end, and I suddenly wondered who would.  
  
With a crack Gandalf's staff broke the stone bridge in front of him, and the Balrog's weight sent it slowly falling down into the darkness, vanquished for now.  
  
For a moment the white wizard watched his nemesis fall into darkness, then he turned to us. A lick of flame lashed up and wrapped around Gandalf's ankle, pulling him backwards into the pit. I think all of us screamed in horror, and I started back towards the bridge, but Boromir caught me. My elbow slammed into his ribs, and I shook him off, running onto the bridge, desperate to reach Gandalf before he fell completely into the darkness.  
  
As I ran, I sensed arrows beginning to fly around me. The orcs had come out of hiding in force, and I dodged, throwing myself flat on the bridge, fingers inches from Gandalf's. He stared at me, shock in his eyes as I closed my hand on his wrist.  
  
"You should fly!"  
  
"Not without you!" I screamed, angry suddenly.  
  
I shouldn't have waited. I really shouldn't have.  
  
The Balrog's very presence destabilised stone, and I should have remembered that. For as I lay there, holding Gandalf from the brink, straining to break the creature's hold on him, the roof fell on me.  
  
-- 


	6. The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Six: The Long Dark Tea Time of The Soul  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I have no idea how long I was unconscious, and, considering I was an Immortal, it's possible I was even dead. Being sandwiched between two slabs of rock could smash just about anything, dragon mail notwithstanding.  
  
But I awoke to find Gandalf still holding my hand as we traveled through some sort of waterway, our heads barely above the top to breath. He seemed to sense I was awake, and pulled me closer, concern in his touch.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"The long dark."  
  
"Ah." I shifted closer to him in the water, shivering at the icyness. "Where are we going?"  
  
"We follow the Balrog."  
  
"I thought it was a creature of fire?"  
  
"It is."  
  
I pondered that, then shrugged, wrapping an arm around his waist under the water. "I suppose it's useless to ask how long I've been unconscious."  
  
Long enough for most of my bruises to heal, at least. And the ribs and other things that should have broken with the roof smashing into me weren't even twingeing. The shields I had held over the ring had gone, as well. Deep unconsciousness will do that, sometimes. I spared a tiny thought of worry for my friends left to its mercies, then turned back to the water at hand.  
  
"It has been a day since the roof collapsed the bridge."  
  
"Ow."  
  
"You are other than human." He said softly.  
  
"I'm Immortal. I told you that once." I smiled in the dark, "But you must have something Immortal in your veins or you wouldn't have lasted, either."  
  
"The Balrog has been extinguished, but we must hunt it or die down here."  
  
"Ah. Damn."  
  
"There is no land," he said, anticipating my next question. "Not that I can sense, anyway," he added ruefully.  
  
I wasn't feeling all that up to par, magically. Apparently, the roof falling had made me snap my hold on the witchlights. Even such a small thing backlashing hurt. It was kind of irritating, really. This world had harder magical rules in some ways, and yet in others, softer.  
  
Of course, anything was better than the one universe I'd been in where magic required a ten-day fast, thirty days of meditation, and the slitting of both wrists. Very unpretty, that.  
  
With my arm around his waist under the water, I could feel that Gandalf had not let his body go to waste over the years. He wasn't more than whipcord over bone, but it was a healthy muscle tone. It would have to have been, considering he still swung a sword. That inevitably led me to checking my own armament and I found that my sword still hung at my hip.  
  
The water below us was deep, and I sensed that we floated in a vast river that tangled with the roots of this world, filled with mystery and things which were neither dark nor light. I wondered if this was what Gandalf had been afraid of, the Balrog, or this river of mystery. Probably both. I realised suddenly that I was shivering, and I moved closer to the wizard, my arm tightening.  
  
He slipped his tattered cloak around us both--not that it did much good under the water. I sighed. "Tell me about the Balrog."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"If I'm going to help you fight it, I need to know."  
  
I felt him tense, then sigh. "It took five of us to destroy one the last time. I do not think we two stand a chance."  
  
"But we have to try." I guessed.  
  
"We need it to show us the way back to the surface."  
  
If I'd had time, I might have been able to do that myself. But we didn't have five months, or twenty, or even one. The ring had to be destroyed, Frodo had to be protected. We had to get out of the deeps of Moria.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
He told me of the beginning of the world, when everything was new. And dark things came, and were buried in deep places in the bones of Middle Earth. But the dwarves founded Moria, and they began delving deep into those secret holes. And one of them found Mithril, another found new ways of forging. And they grew prosperous and happy, sated on their endeavors.  
  
Until one day they found a deeper place, one which contained a fire unknown before.  
  
And the Balrog rose and destroyed Moria as it was. Some of the dwarves fled, filled with tales of the elves and their treachery--for the elven folk had long tried to stop the deep digging. Sadly, they failed.  
  
Time passed, and the Balrog fell into a long slumber, deep in the chasms of Moria.  
  
Until we came, and the orc-drums awoke it.  
  
"Great. And we're down in the deeps, where only IT knows the way out." I sighed. "You said you'd faced it before--how did you defeat it?"  
  
"Not this one, a different one. It was long ago."  
  
I sensed, suddenly, that Gandalf's age was far greater than I'd originally suspected. It occurred to me that experience was definitely something useful, and I blushed in the darkness, glad he wasn't a telepath.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Nothing." Sadly, not even cold water kept my libido from awakening at the oddest moments. "Gandalf, can you accept power from another wizard?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"If I were to--to link my mind to you, in some way, could not you feed on the power I had?"  
  
"'Twould be very dangerous."  
  
"I know. But if my experiences are anything to go by, me linked to you doubles your power, and might triple it." I frowned, "I know there's high math involved, but I can't recall the equations at the moment. Must ask Wes next time I'm on the Enterprise."  
  
"This sharing power, how do you go about it?"  
  
"Depends. Usually there's some sort of mental link between the people, sometimes you need to mingle blood." I pondered, my legs swishing absently in the water. "If I'm right, I think I should be able to just do--this."  
  
I leaned forward and kissed him, reaching out with my mind, searching for his.  
  
For a moment, nothing happened.  
  
And then he kissed me back, a kind of exhausted desperation in the kiss. And our minds met. For an instant, there was nothing. Then brightness exploded behind our eyes as both powers met red and green clashing into blue and white, mingling and becoming a steady gold as we held on to ourselves and each other. I clung to what felt like 'me', hoping that it was. We were one, yet two. Two, yet one. Bonded mentally and magically, our mouths fusing us physically.  
  
I broke away first, panting. The linkages stayed, pulsing between us, as our thoughts mingled without control or direction. I hissed and began focusing myself, trying to clamp away the backwash from two minds echoing into each other.  
  
Slowly, the chaotic din stilled, until there was a gentle flow between us.  
  
::I'm sorry.::  
  
Amusement flowed over to me, ::If you apologise for the kiss, I shall have to do so again.::  
  
::What if I want you to do it again?::  
  
Surprise touched me, then more amusement, ::Another time, perhaps.::  
  
::Yes. More serious matters to attend to.:: I let him go, treading water and backing away from him. ::Let's see how this holds with distance.::  
  
::I saw the inside of you, my dear. You are so much more than you think.::  
  
::Great, Philosophy in the middle of dire straights.::  
  
::When better?::  
  
I chuckled, ::When we're somewhere safe and can debate this endlessly.:: The string of the link was slowly thinning out the further away from him I drifted. I pondered this, then decided. ::I think that's enough.:: Reaching for his physicality, I pulled gently.  
  
::...::  
  
::Sorry.:: I caught his hand and pulled him close. ::Forgot I could do that.::  
  
He shivered, his body finally giving up the ghost of being all right with this icy cold water thing. ::What more can you do?::  
  
::Well, I can think of a way to warm up, but I'm afraid it would also use up energy we need for fighting the Balrog.::  
  
A rumbling chuckle went through him, and I leaned into it, basking in the warmth. ::You are quite incorrigiable.::  
  
::You should hear me when I'm not in mortal danger.::  
  
He leaned forward, his head gently touching mine. I felt him sigh. ::If there were any way...::  
  
I blinked. ::Don't you dare go all Noble on me, you idiot. You NEED me. My power, my energy, my gods-damned experience. Don't even try to 'send me back to the surface' to 'protect me'. Idiot.::  
  
::Aside from the fact that we're stuck together since to find the surface, I must find the Balrog....::  
  
::Shut up.:: I slammed a shield down between us and released him, shaking. "You're an old fool, Gandalf."  
  
His attempt to protect me and turn me into a helpless woman shook me. I wasn't sure why. But we would have words when we were safe again. Before this Middle Earth ended, we would have deep and meaningful words.  
  
::And maybe some deep--::  
  
::ALAYNA!::  
  
I heard her snicker, her mindvoice disappearing again into the ether.  
  
--  
  
Time passed again in the lightless space of icy water. We ended up wrapped in each other's arms for a time, sharing warmth. I wove a simple heat spell, localising it around us. It bled off into the water, but saved us from hypothermia and shock. It was probably days. I left the keeping track part to Gandalf as we both searched for the Balrog in that dank place.  
  
We found him, finally, submerged in a deep chamber that rose high into the mountain above us.  
  
I 'looked' down under us, seeing him floating there, fire extinguished by the water, yet I sensed there was still a possibility of it returning. Without argument, I let Gandalf go, kissing him quickly before strengthening the link and releasing him. This was his fight, I could only support him with energy and thought.  
  
With a released breath, the wizard sank under the water, slowly drifting into the depths to confront the Balrog.  
  
He fought for a long time, striving against a force that was greater than he. I think without me, that he would have died. Of course, the fact that he seemed perfectly fine underwater without any sort of breathing apparatus might have belied that point.  
  
Maybe he just held his breath really well.  
  
I couldn't do anything except send comfort and a steady flow of energy. He put it to his own uses, and I caught occasional glimpses that took my breath away.  
  
When it was all over, when this was done, I would have to pick his brain.  
  
There was so much to teach each other, not to mention the great sex that could result. I sighed. It had been a long time, and my libido wasn't giving up, for some reason. It wasn't the danger. Danger was so constant in my life it wasn't enough to attract me. It had to be the eyes. And the mind.  
  
I wrenched my mind from that path and concentrated on tapping the natural energy and magic around me, feeding them down to Gandalf as he fought.  
  
As the day--night?--went on, I began pondering exactly what I would do for a cup of coffee. Even tea would be welcome under these conditions. My body was slowly beginning to prune completely, the heat shield and dragon mail protecting it for a while from this fate.  
  
Fate sucked.  
  
I have to ask myself, sometimes, what's it all for? Why should I let myself be screwed over a thousand times or more? But then I remember. If I don't do it, no one will. In some ways, things might be better if I stopped. If I just settled down in some obscure backwater universe. I'd be lonely.  
  
And people would die before their time. A friend of mine was once given the option. Die and have peace, or go on to live in pain for years to come. If he died, his friends died faster. He chose to live.  
  
He's an idiot, is Van. But I'm just like him.  
  
I choose life every time I open my eyes. Every time I stand, or pull a sword out of thin air.  
  
That's me. There's nothing else to do. But live and fight and die for life.  
  
And sex. Lots of mind-blowing sex.  
  
It was like stacking the deck, when Destiny tossed me into the game. With me, he was sure to win. Fate tended to filch me back from time to time, too.  
  
With a sigh, I shifted my concentration back to the battle. Gandalf had cornered the Balrog, and was now wrapping coercion spells around it so he could control it. After all, the thing had to lead us out of this massive pit of darkness.  
  
I could've, yeah, as noted before. But we didn't have that kind of time.  
  
Light suddenly flashed from below me, illuminating everything piteously showing the bare rock to my naked eyes. Well, it would've, if I hadn't immediately clamped a hand across my eyes with an oath. Having been underground for so long, my eyes were way too sensitive.  
  
::Oops.:: Gandalf sounded chagrined.  
  
::You could've warned me, dammit.::  
  
::My apologies, Marya. I offer you my pardon and forfeit.::  
  
Really? ::I'll hold you to that, if we get out of here.:: There could be a lot of interesting possibilities, with that promised forfeit.  
  
::Prepare yourself, my dear. We're coming up.::  
  
Since my eyes still hadn't stopped watering, I relied on my spatial sense to tell me when they got close enough. I hooked an arm around Gandalf's waist. ::Let's get out of here.::  
  
::Indeed.::  
  
--  
  
The Balrog hated its captivity. I sensed this clearly as we slowly traversed the waterways into the underbelly of Moria. Hours passed, then with a shock, I realised dry land was at hand, the sound of water actually lapping on something other than water coming to my ears. Minutes later we were scrambling out of the cold onto damp rock. Bits of gravel dug in, but I didn't care. I wasn't pruning anymore.  
  
Moria had been a mine in every way that counted, I realised. We passed through passageways stacked with old equipment, some of it esoteric to my 20th century eyes. Other bits and pieces looked more sophisticated than Windows XP's code did. Which isn't saying much.  
  
We seemed to travel forever, in this black night of deep underground. Sometimes, there seemed a slight amount of light coming from the rock itself, and I put it down to phosphorescence.  
  
Finally, we hit a stairway. It was fairly even and planed, probably as old as most of the rest of Moria had been. We went up.  
  
And up.  
  
And up.  
  
You get the idea.  
  
At some point, the light began to grow, and we had to pause a few times to allow our eyes to adjust. The Balrog was impatient with this, but I found that threatening it with freezing tended to make it sit calmly and quietly.  
  
The stairway went on forever, and I began to sense that it spanned the mountain from top to bottom. I wondered why, since there seemed to be no entrances or exits from which we could remove ourselves from the endless span. My legs were like spaghetti before we were halfway. But we couldn't stop often, and I perservered, knowing I'd pay off by having thinner legs with more muscles. Probably.  
  
I don't know how Gandalf did it. In his condition--holding a Balrog under control, after having faced it under water in the freezing cold--I would have been collapsing under the strain. Probably.  
  
Our clothing slowly dried, until I was left feeling slightly sticky with whatever tacky substances and minerals had been in the water.  
  
Eventually I perceived what had to be an opening far above us. A whisp of cleaner wind wafted around us, and we redoubled our efforts, trying to reach the surface before we gave out.  
  
The Balrog took advantage of this, and broke free, kiting its way up the stairs and out of our view faster than I'd anticipated.  
  
::Shit.::  
  
Gandalf blinked at me.  
  
::Let's go.:: I pulled my sword and ran, pulling at my reserves and the air around us. The magic there was strong, earthy. I tapped into it, gratefully filling my channels and pathways with it, preparing a large pool for the coming battle.  
  
For the Balrog would have its revenge on us, and we would have to fight it. As tired and broken as we were, we might not win. But we would try.  
  
Behind me, I could hear Gandalf muttering. But I didn't have time to stop and ask him the plan. The Balrog needed to be kept off-balance, or we would lose the single edge we had.  
  
I broke through the last set of stairs and was immediately blinded by snow-glare. It was a lovely sunny day, but I didn't have time to stop and smell the roses. And I couldn't see. I closed my eyes and reached out with my spatial sense.  
  
The Balrog slammed a fist the size of a horse into my side, and I went flying. Things crunched inside, but I ignored them, rolling to my feet and stabbing at the claw as it came again. I succeeded in nicking it, then I danced away, carefully not to fall from the mountain peak.  
  
Again, it attacked, and again, I slashed at it, sheering more of its essence to wind away into the breeze that whisked around us.  
  
I was angering it, but I had no choice.  
  
With a roar, it jumped up into the air, intending to land on me, crushing me. I made a split-second decision. Gandalf was almost to the top of the stairs.  
  
For us both to live, I would have to die.  
  
I swung my sword up, and felt it impact through the Balrog and up inside of it, as the foot smashed me towards the ground. Pain shattered everything else, then, and I twisted the sword, doing as much damage as I could while the blackness hovered on the edge of my mind.  
  
Opening my eyes, I beheld the sun shining serenely down on me. It was so beautiful.  
  
"NO!" Gandalf's voice was hoarse with his run to follow me up the stairs. But he was too late.  
  
With a last effort, I threw all the energy I'd gathered down my link to Gandalf. And then darkness took me and I knew no more.  
  
-- 


	7. Massage and the Art of the Tongue

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Seven: Massage and the Art of the Tongue  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
Pain was the first thing I felt as I awoke. My ribs had been shattered in the Balrog's first strike, slivers sliding deeply into my lungs as I'd fought. If I hadn't been crushed, I probably would have drowned in my own blood. But those hurts were slightly lessened, when compared to the massive ache that was my back. It was broken in three places, the pressure of the Balrog shattering disks like so much fine china.  
  
I hissed out a breath, surprised to find I wasn't swimming in blood. My healing powers had kicked in, apparently. Or I'd died and come back. Either way, I wasn't in quite as bad shape as I'd expected.  
  
Another breathe. Breathing felt really really good. In. Out. In. Out.  
  
Finally, the silence called me back to matters at hand, and I carefully sat up, wincing as a cracked rib twinged.  
  
The ground around me was blackened, littered with ash and bones. I was betting the Balrog was dead. But had it taken Gandalf with it?  
  
I began carefully crawling among the wreckage, avoiding the bones when I could, digging through the layers of sooty ash. I became more and more frantic as I began to run out of dead Balrog to search. He had to still be up here, didn't he? He couldn't have been thrown down the mountain.  
  
And then I saw him, a crumpled heap of grey robes and matted hair.  
  
I cried out in shock, then hissed as my ribs protested again. I was actually impressed with the healing going on, since it seemed to be hyper-actively sealing every ache and pain. With careful movements I crawled towards the sprawled mass of robes. It had to be him, there wasn't any other place he could be. Closer, I could see streaks of blood dotting things here and there, and one out-stretched hand, completely white and lifeless in the bitter cold.  
  
"You're not allowed to be dead, you idiot." I muttered, carefully feeling around the wrist for a pulse. There was nothing, so I cursed softly and moved to where his head should be.  
  
His eyes were open, staring unseeingly out at nothing.  
  
"No." I felt at his neck, then his chest. Nothing. A tear slid down my cheek, gilding my face with ice as the bitter wind hit me. "Gandalf..." With a sigh, I carefully tranced down, searching his body for soul and a tiny spark of life. Any life, at all.  
  
I missed it on my first pass--I was trying too hard, moving through his body too quickly. I had to stand up and pace, working out the kinks in my body as the accelerated healing dragged muscle and bone back into place, reknitting connective tissue like fine spiderwebs.  
  
"You're not dead, you damned wizard. You're not." I ranted, "It's not allowed. I'm supposed to die, others aren't. That's why I let it crush me." I dropped to my knees beside him, surprised to find tears streaming down my cheeks. "You can't die on me, you bastard."  
  
With careful deliberation, I pulled one of my knives out. I calmly drew it across my left wrist, wincing as the sting bit in and blood welled out of the slice. I caught several drops on my fingertip, and gently dotted them on his forehead and lips. "With my blood, I heal you. With my life, I call you. Come back to Middle Earth, Gandalf, your time is not finished! annayalcoirëa!"  
  
I had no clue what I'd said at the last.  
  
For a moment, there was silence. Then I sensed a part of the mountain almost... die. I didn't have time to ponder on that, for a lance of lightning stabbed into me, through me, and into Gandalf.  
  
Pain shattered outwards as I bore the brunt of the strike, my body arching, my mouth opening in a silent scream.  
  
And then it was gone, leaving me collapsed on his chest, limbs unable to do anything but shake.  
  
His chest moved. I heard him draw that first, shuddering breath, and felt a sense of relief. I had won. He lived.  
  
Time passed, as I tried to remember how to breathe properly myself. Eventually, I realised his hand was slowly stroking my hair, and I wriggled around so I could face him. "Hi."  
  
"I dreamt you called me..." he whispered, his eyes closed as if resting.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I was resting.... so peaceful..."  
  
I kissed him gently, curling myself around him to share warmth as we waited for whatever would come, "I am sorry, my dear. This world needs us both still."  
  
"...tired..."  
  
"I know." I closed my eyes and sighed, tension leaving me as I set a low-level warming spell around us. "Rest."  
  
A soft snore answered me, and I chuckled, releasing the last of my tension and spiraling down into sleep myself.  
  
--  
  
It was the beat of wings which awoke me from my warm sleepy haze. I opened my eyes to find a very large eagle backwinging to land near us. For a time, we regarded each other. I sensed no malice from him, but didn't know what he thought of me curled around Gandalf and sharing his robes as a blanket.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"So. It speaks." He snapped his beak in what I took to be amusement. "And you are the feature in a sight strange for me to behold."  
  
"Really?" I carefully sat up, dissipating the warming spell.  
  
"It is not often that I see my wizard friend enmeshed in a female's embrace."  
  
"That's probably because most women are blind to his mind." I retorted, standing and wincing as several things still half-healed twinged.  
  
"You are wise, young one."  
  
I chuckled, "Not so young, O Great One."  
  
He laughed. I think that's what it was, anyway. It certainly didn't sound like such. "You amuse me, my lady."  
  
"Marya." I supplied.  
  
"I am Gwahir, Son of the Eagles."  
  
"I don't suppose you were here to help us?"  
  
He sobered, "The Lady Galadriel has bid me watch these mountains for such wizardly activity. I am saddened that I came so late to the battle, but great winds delayed me."  
  
I blinked, "I think that was me. Sorry." Apparently, my healing-spell had done more than I'd thought.  
  
He studied us for a moment, then nodded, "I believe I might bear both of you, for a short while. Then we may see more of my brethren, and the burden will be lessened."  
  
"My thanks." I knelt at Gandalf's side, and gently shook him. "Wake up, my love."  
  
An eye popped open, looking almost amused, "I am awake." He sat up slowly, looking at Gwahir in amusement. "It's been most interesting, listening to you charm the Lord of the Eagles."  
  
I shrugged, "Comes with the territory."  
  
He blinked at me, his eyes suddenly wide with shock. "Your hair..."  
  
"Huh?" Reflexively, I reached up for the bun I'd shoved it into all those miles ago. It wasn't there. Instead, there was stubble, and horrific-feeling burns. "My gods..." I hadn't even felt it. The lightning must have done it.  
  
Gandalf caught my arm, "We will have time for this later."  
  
"Yeah, later." I felt numb. It had been a long time since I'd been totally hairless. I didn't know why it bothered me so much. It was just hair.  
  
He led me to Gwahir, who had moved to stand at the edge of the platform, and we both were carefully hoisted by the giant eagle. For a moment, nothing happened, then Gwahir inhaled, and we dropped from the mountain into air.  
  
It was one of the most wondrous experiences of my life. Crisp clean air, sheeting past us as we soared up into the wide blue sky. I gave a gurgle of laughter, startling both of my companions, then began to sing very softly. It was a song of joy and happiness, in a language I'd known long ago and was remembering now. At least, that's what I thought it was.  
  
All I knew was that it was beautiful and serene, and wove through the air around us like a blanket of peace.  
  
There would be time for cares and woes, hairdressers and tears, later.  
  
We traveled by eagle-relay for the next couple hours, as they wafted us gently over the last of the mountains and down into a green valley, seated around a river.  
  
I realised as we got closer that it was a familiar valley. A slight grin touched my face as we set down in the little hollow outside the borders of the green and gold forest of Lorien. Haldir was sure to ask after his clothes. How to tell him they'd been lost to orcs?  
  
--  
  
"It is late afternoon, my friends." Gwahir had borne Gandalf the final stretch of time, and he seemed concerned over both our welfares. "You will not make Caras Galadhon tonight."  
  
"No, my friend, we must beg hospitality of the border guards." Gandalf glanced at me, "You have been named elf-friend, Marya, as have I. They should welcome us with kindness, if not with happiness."  
  
"Lead the way, kemo-sabe." I replied with a shrug. The day had worn me down in more ways then I could count. The endless cold deep, the long stair, and the battle. And Gandalf's resurrection had left me in need of sleep. A week would do it. Maybe.  
  
We had nearly reached the shelter of the golden trees when two archers stepped out, studying us and our escort.  
  
"So," said the one on the right, "Mithrandir, you have finally returned to Lorien."  
  
The one on the left was staring at me. I shrugged, "Heya, Haldir. Long time, no see."  
  
"I do not believe it." He stepped forward, bow dropped to his side, and touched my cheek. "You are alive."  
  
"It happens." I looked at Gwahir, "I hate to be pushy, but I'm hungry. You menfolk can stay up half the night gabbing, but some of us need our beauty rest."  
  
"Your hair..." Haldir said softly.  
  
I winced, "Yeah. Not much to look at, am I?"  
  
Gandalf's hand touched the back of my neck, "My lady needs sleep, gentlemen."  
  
For once, I didn't object to any macho bullcrap. I was worn beyond repair, almost. And sad with the loss of my hair. And there was no damned coffee. Anywhere. It was enough to make a girl scream.  
  
I drifted to sleep on the platform of Haldir's tree, wrapped in several cloaks and blankets, and listening to the droning of soft voices, speaking in a language I half-understood. Occasionally, I caught references to me. Luthien, they called me, their voices filled with wonder as they listened to Gandalf's recounting of the journey from Rivendell.  
  
Comforting as the voices were, I was soon asleep, my dreams filled with dark horror and pain. I twisted away from the torture, fighting for what I desperately needed.  
  
Darkness ruled, the deep dark of Moria, as things wrapped me in their coils, dragging me down into thick sludge. I choked on it, breathing in what tasted like rancid blood. The liquid burned down my throat, causing me to gasp, which sent more down to my stomach.  
  
The scene changed, then, and I walked on a plain, it stretched into forever, dust grey and thick under my feet. Cliche upon cliche. The plain opened under my feet and I fell into a mountain of fire, the lava burning my hair from my head and leaving me a dying husk of a human on the floor.  
  
Burned in and out, I wept, despair wrapping around me and drawing me deeper into its toils.  
  
And then the parades began. Long lines of people I had once known, brutally slaughtered, their heads half hanging from their shoulders, their hands smashed into pulp as their eyes accused me silently. I had failed them all, let them die in their youth. Because of me they would know only pain and fear. Happiness? Yeah, right. They were tortured to death, their innards brutally maligned and ripped out.  
  
More came, never-ending, and I saw friends I had known before the breaking of the barriers, and the melting of universes. Skin stripped from their very bones, eyes eaten from their sockets, and still they came, shuffling slowly as blood and thicker things dribbled down to the dust, turning it into sludge.  
  
I must have screamed, for I awoke to find Gandalf shaking me, worry in his eyes. I blinked, and the light faded from around me, plunging us into darkness again.  
  
"What happened?" I croaked, wincing at the lacerated feel of my throat.  
  
"You screamed."  
  
Haldir appeared over his shoulder, carrying a small lantern. He looked at me, something in his eyes hurting somewhere. I'd deal with it later. I didn't have time to worry about someone fearing me.  
  
"Is that all I--ow--did?" I sat up, still in the circle of Gandalf's arms.  
  
"No, you were also glowing, my lady." Haldir handed me a cup of something warm.  
  
I sipped it automatically, then winced as it hit my throat. As smooth and clear as it was, it still aggravated the lining of my throat. Glowing, lacerating my throat with a single scream, and massively BAD dreams. Oh yeah, my night was gonna be peaceful.  
  
Gandalf removed himself from my person, and I felt a sharp sense of loss. I sighed audibly. He chuckled and sat cross-legged next to me, our legs touching at the knees. I sipped the drink again, glad to know it was hurting less this time.  
  
"Your dreams," Gandalf started.  
  
"They're a price." I said softly.  
  
"For?"  
  
"Life." I didn't feel like elaborating. For one thing, my throat was still too raw for the involved discussion that would ensue. And for another, I needed to try sleeping again. I handed Haldir the cup, and gave him a wry look, "I don't suppose that was a sleeping draught, was it?"  
  
He blinked, startled, "No my lady."  
  
"Ah." I looked at Gandalf, eyebrow raised, "I don't suppose you'd mind snuggling up with me?"  
  
I was too tired to care that I sounded very forward. Besides, we'd been snuggled on the mountaintop, and he hadn't seemed to mind.  
  
"Will it help you to sleep peacefully?"  
  
Not really, but having someone cuddled against me tends to make me feel less out of touch with reality. And, well... I also really just wanted to hold him. For once, it wasn't sexual. But I needed to be held and to hold, and I was really not looking forward to a night alone. "Uh..." I sighed, "No. But having you near will be comforting."  
  
"Very well," He glanced at Haldir, "We were done with our discussions anyway."  
  
I yawned, nodded, and lay down again, leaving him space next to me under the cloaks and blankets. He slipped away to attend to one or two more things, then came back to me as I lay in my half-drowsy state. I felt him slip in, almost rigid with tension, as if afraid I'd reject him or something. With a mumble, I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled up, wincing at the realisation that he was freezing. "...idiot..."  
  
He snorted, but relaxed into my hold, turning, so I could slip my head under his chin. "Silly woman."  
  
"...fuck you..."  
  
"Maybe later."  
  
"Good." I replied, awake again for a moment. I tilted my head up to catch his eye. "I'd hate to think this was all for nothing." I sensed that I'd caused him to blush again, and smirked.  
  
"Incorrigeable woman."  
  
"You should be thanking your gods for that." I yawned again and closed my eyes. "Night."  
  
--  
  
I awoke alone under the cloaks, and sighed. Judging by the angle of the sun I could see filtering through the trees, it was midmorning. My dreams had been full of pain and terror, but somehow, it had felt removed a step, as if Gandalf's presence sent my nightmares screaming from his personality. I could identify with that, I decided grumpily as I stood up, keeping one of the cloaks for its more conventional purpose.  
  
They'd left me alone on the platform. "Probably off deciding the Fate of Nations," I muttered grumpily.  
  
"We went to fetch you breakfast." A voice admonished from the hole in the floor. Gandalf followed his voice, eyes twinkling as he saw me standing there. "You need to eat before we march on to the castle of Galadriel and Celeborn, after all."  
  
"Food." I hadn't eaten in.... I realised I had no idea how long it had been. Days? Weeks? A month? "Gimme."  
  
I devoured several apple slices, or what was probably apples. They were fresh, the juices running down my chin and dripping on my shirt.  
  
Gandalf handed me a small piece of cloth that was slightly damp. I used it to wipe away the traces of my breakfast, then stood. Lothlorien beckoned to me, the golden trees shimmering in my mind as pillars of gentle strength. I felt peace emanating from it, wrapping me in its warmth.  
  
Gandalf was watching me again, and I blinked at him. "What?"  
  
"There is something so odd about you."  
  
"Thank you." I snorted, "Let's go, O Great One."  
  
We exited the platform down the ladder, reaching the forest floor without trouble. Around us birds whistled softly into the glorious morning light, and I sighed happily. Peace called from Lorien, a peace I hadn't known for a long time.  
  
I don't know why it hadn't called me before, but it seemed that I wasn't meant to be there till now.  
  
As our journey into the golden wood progressed, I grew more certain that I belonged there. More sure of the welcome I would receive. It was like coming home after a long battle to find my family around me, with feasts and joy.  
  
Gandalf and our guide seemed unaware of my growing feeling of zen, but I didn't mind. It was my feeling and no one else's. I might once have wanted to share it, but I was so weary of my life, of journeying beyond reality and into pain so much.  
  
Haldir had left us at the forest's edge, passing us to his kindred like a parcel. The young elf who led us seemed well enough, but I would have liked Haldir's company.  
  
He hadn't asked after his clothing.  
  
--  
  
Caras Galadhon was exceptionally beautiful. Spires of golden wood twined around grey and green and silver to form glorious arches and paths, stairways that led up deep into the golden heights, with starlight cascading down them in the form of silvery light gilding the railings. I stared at it in awe, my mouth open.  
  
It was like coming home, in a way. I reveled in the feeling of peaceful timelessness that radiated from the very grass of the wood. Like being wrapped in a warm and fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer, I felt warmed and loved.  
  
This feeling was tempered by the knowledge that we had not yet traversed the endless stair to meet our hosts. But I could deal with that, knowing that I was accepted.  
  
We were relieved of our weapons at the entrance to the stairs, and I pondered a moment before removing every knife upon my person. I think a few dropped jaws were worth not having sharp things when we met the King and Queen of the forest.  
  
I could always just blast them with magic, or something.  
  
Gandalf was giving me an amused look as we climbed the stairs. I tried my best innocent blank face on him. He didn't buy it, but his eyes were dancing with laughter.  
  
We reached the top of the stairs eventually, and stepped into a large open chamber. It had a dais at one side, and we approached, me watching the seated figures intently. The woman betrayed nothing, but on the man's face, I caught a glimpse of suppressed joy and surprise. They were incredibly beautiful, blond hair cascading like long thin waterfalls from the crowns of their heads.  
  
He rose, coming down the steps and clasping arms with Gandalf, "Mithrandir, beyond all hope."  
  
She came down next, gliding as if on water, "We had thought you lost to the dark."  
  
"I nearly was."  
  
True. Very true. I kept a non-committal half-smile on my face as the three began speaking rapidly in elvish. I could pick up a word or three, but felt rather left out.  
  
As if sensing my irritation, Gandalf turned to me, "My friends, may I present Marya Luthien, named Elf-friend by Elrond at his Council at Rivendell. Marya, this is Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel."  
  
I bowed, wishing for a long coat and swishy cape for dramatic effect, but settling for my slightly worn-out shirt and trousers. "M'Lord, M'Lady."  
  
"Your Fellowship mentioned her." Celeborn said, "And lamented her as lost as you."  
  
Nice to know I'd been mourned. Always gave life a nice little kick to feel appreciated and missed.  
  
"Come, there is time for this later my Lord. They are weary to the bone and Mithrandir is like to fall over from lack of food." Galadriel announced, "You shall rest, friends, build up your strength. The whole of Caras Galadhon is yours to peruse."  
  
"We will talk tomorrow, then." Gandalf bowed, and I followed his lead, bending forward again, wincing as my hair didn't flop forward like it had, long ago.  
  
Galadriel caught my shoulder as I straightened, shock in her eyes, "I hadn't realised the extent of your injuries, my dear."  
  
"It's nothing." I tried to smile, "I'm alive, after all."  
  
And so was Gandalf. But I wasn't going to mention that part, unless I had to.  
  
He caught my arm, "Tomorrow, my friend, remember?"  
  
"Yes." She smiled at us both. But I caught a glimpse of something in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew we were going to continue our talk later that night.  
  
--  
  
They gave us a lovely series of rooms at the base of the 'castle' tree. They were nicely furnished, with many soft bits of bedding and a low table that we sat cross-legged at, our feet tucked into thick woolly blankets. Bare feet. Without worry I'd step on stones, or something worse. It was heaven. So was the hot spring one of the elves had mentioned. I was so there, once I'd finished devouring my portion of food.  
  
Halfway through my meal, I realised Gandalf wasn't eating. He seemed content to watch ME eat. I wasn't having any of that, however. "Old man, if you don't eat on your own, I'll have to sit on your chest and force-feed you."  
  
"Is that a promise?" His eyes were twinkling in amusement.  
  
"Yes." I got up on my hands and knees and stalked towards him, moving like a jungle cat. He watched me close, turning so he faced me fully as I reached his side of the table. "Eat. You'll need your strength."  
  
"For?"  
  
I smiled like a cat who'd been given something delightful to play with, "Oh, I'm planning on ravishing you mercilessly."  
  
"Really?" He sounded almost hopeful.  
  
I stepped closer, and caught his shoulders in my hands, "Really." He caught my arms as I shoved him backwards, and we went over together, me landing on top. I smirked into his eyes, "You don't mind, do you?"  
  
For an answer, he shifted, sliding his arms around me and cupping the back of my head with one hand. He slowly drew me down, eyes watching mine intently. I stayed passive, lips automatically puckering up in anticipation. When our lips touched, it was almost electric, lightning flashing between us, then passion flowing.  
  
I drew back, panting slightly, feeling my body waking up in ways it had been craving to do for way too long.  
  
"I think I'm hungry." He said, shifting to sit up.  
  
"Smart man." I replied, curling halfway in his lap. The hot springs could wait.  
  
--  
  
Note: The Quenya/Elven words I used in Marya's spell actually sort of exist. They are as follows: annayalcoirëa - Badly melded Quenya: With this gift, I summon you to life.  
  
My apologies to all purists, but it sounds good, and it fits with what I needed to do.  
  
Suzy. 


	8. Midnightmares

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Eight: Midnightmares  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I had been delighted to find out that my guess about age and experience had been rather true. We had spent several hours making love, until we ended in a sweaty exhausted pile, still in front of the table. Most of the food had either been eaten, or used for more interesting tasks.  
  
We drifted off, a nearby cloak used as coverlet, since neither of us had the energy to look for anything more substantial.  
  
Hours later, I drifted awake. I felt rested and comfortable. The sweat had dried from our skins, evaporating into the atmosphere around us, and someone had been thoughtful enough to place another blanket over us. I shifted, a sudden restlessness catching me. Gandalf was holding me loosely, so I slipped slowly out of his arms. He murmured softly and I chuckled, smoothing a hand across his face. He settled back down, and I stood up, shivering slightly in the night air.  
  
I was slightly wobbly as I searched for something quick to pull on. The after-orgasm languour still had a great hold on my body, and I was also slightly sore. It had been a LONG time.  
  
A gentle voice touched my mind. ::I wish to speak with you.::  
  
Galadriel. Why did this not surprise me. ::Don't suppose you have an extra robe on you?::  
  
She appeared in the doorway, her lips twitching in the moonlight. ::Here.:: she held out a dark silken thing, that turned out to be a nicely serviceable robe.  
  
I raised an eyebrow, and she left the doorway, me following. We took a meandering path through the trees, ending up at the top of a hollow. A set of stairs were carved into the very stone, curving gently down to the floor. We stepped down them, the only sounds to be heard the swish of silken robes and a slight tinkle of falling water. A small stream cascaded from the roots of the tree, collecting in a small basin near the bottom of the hollow.  
  
Directly in the centre of the hollow, stood a small bowl upon a pedestal. I studied it, curious.  
  
"This is Galadriel's Mirror." She said softly, "Often have I looked into it and seen things I did not understand." She looked at me, her eyes suddenly troubled. "Lately, I have seen visions of places that have not been and will not be--and you are there. You are fighting, always fighting. At times the only thing you seem to do is bleed and die and live for life."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I wish for you to tell me--who are you?"  
  
"Would you believe me?"  
  
She chuckled, "I have seen many things I should not believe, yet do. Too, I hold one of the Three. Many strange things fall within my purview." She raised her left hand, and I saw a slight glimmering there, then it was gone, hidden again.  
  
I looked at her for a long time, then nodded, "Very well. But I ask that you not reveal what I say to anyone save Lord Celeborn."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
"You might want to have a seat. This could take some time." She shook her head, and I began. "I am Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga. I was created to serve as a sort of Cosmic Ace in the Hole..."  
  
--  
  
Galadriel and I talked until dawn. We covered many things, she filled me in on much of the political situation of Middle Earth, and I told her of dancing among the stars and flying through firey mountains. The conversation eventually got around to Gandalf, and I blushed at the approval she radiated.  
  
"I..."  
  
"You're going to be very good for him."  
  
"Good." I blushed again, "He's a wonderful man. Lover, warrior, poet, wizard, and that brain. 'Driel, dear, he's like a puzzlebox that you have to open in layers." I sighed, "I love it."  
  
"And, considering the, uh, emotional emanations earlier tonight..."  
  
"Sorry about that." I blinked, suddenly alarmed, "We weren't broadcasting, were we?"  
  
A chuckle escaped her, "Some of the young ones found themselves inexplicably drawn to procreate, but nothing harmful."  
  
"Ye gods." I hid my face in my hands, "It's been way too long. It's my only excuse." I looked at her ruefully, "I normally dampen any projections so as not to bother anyone around myself. I do apologise."  
  
"No harm was done, save a few bruises on those who were overly zealous in performing their...duties."  
  
I chuckled, sensing the amusement she had. "And yourself?"  
  
"I'll have you know the Lady Galadriel has loftier barriers than most."  
  
"But you were still affected." I guessed, lips twitching.  
  
"Yes." She smiled, "Thank you."  
  
It was the smile I'd had much much earlier, right before I'd fallen asleep. I laughed, "You're as bad as I am."  
  
She sniffed, "My lord is a wonderful lover, when he remembers to put his mind to it."  
  
"I'll leave him to you, 'Driel."  
  
With another small chuckle, she held out her hand to me, "I am glad that my son named you elf-friend. Although I would have liked to do it myself. Not that it matters." She paused, "I hope you realise how much I approve of you and Mithrandir, Luthien."  
  
"...thanks." I felt like blushing again.  
  
"He is going to need you in the coming battles." Darkness coloured Galadriel's eyes. "There will be so many."  
  
"Too many."  
  
"Indeed." She shook her head, smiling again, "The dawn is approaching, my friend. So let us end on a happy note and return to our lovers, refreshed and looking for arms to hold us gently."  
  
"Good plan. I like that plan." I stood, stretching as she did the same. "And to think I wanted sleep." I sighed.  
  
--  
  
I'm not quite sure how long Gandalf and I spent in Lothlorien. It's a timeless place, given to long afternoons, and late nights. Mornings spent curled around your lover, with maybe some hot cocoa nearby. No coffee, sadly, but I was getting over that. Sort of.  
  
Some of the time was spent in council with the others, but we had hashed and rehashed everything, and Gandalf had long decided that our parts to play didn't include chasing the Fellowship to Mordor. He was more concerned with Saruman, and I became convinced he was right.  
  
When Gandalf adopted white, instead of grey, I knew he'd passed into his new life as the strongest of the wizards. Galadriel dubbed him Gandalf the White, one night, and it stuck.  
  
Darkness was falling in the forests to the south and west of Lorien, and the Lady worried that it might not be stoppable.  
  
My nightmares agreed with her. They started nearly a month after we'd arrived, when I was rested and whole, my hair growing back in. I now sported a cap of rainbow-coloured curls, and several of the elves were calling me Lady Rainbow, as Pippin had once done so, and I realised I missed the lad. He featured heavily in my nightmares, he and Merry, and I cried out as I awoke, soaked in a cold sweat.  
  
Gandalf caught me as I shivered, "Shhh."  
  
"No... Something has gone horribly wrong. We must go to Fangorn, my love." I gasped out, not knowing where this place was, but knowing I was called. I twisted away from his hands, tumbling out of bed and landing on my knees heavily.  
  
"In the morning."  
  
"We must leave then." I stood, and began rummaging through the room, searching out my weapons and dragon mail. I hadn't worn it since that first night, when Gandalf had peeled me out of it. I found them in a small stack upon a shelf, cleaned and gleaming.  
  
He still watched me from our bed, concern in his gaze, "The dream was that strong?"  
  
"Yes." I held out a hand, wincing as it shook. "I'm full of adrenaline, right now."  
  
"Come sleep."  
  
"I have to do something to burn this off, or I won't be able to."  
  
He smirked, "I can think of a way..."  
  
I blinked at him, "You dirty old man."  
  
"That's your own fault, my dear. I was content to stay a sexless, ancient wizard."  
  
I snorted as I walked back to the bed, "I'm sure."  
  
He caught me as I fell back in, pulling me against him. "No. I am sure. You are wonderful."  
  
--  
  
Galadriel was unsurprised. "Your dreams echoed in my own last night."  
  
I blinked, "Odd. They didn't touch Gandalf, and he was sleeping rather closer."  
  
She smiled slightly, "I am the Lady of the Wood. My mind is in everything."  
  
"Ah." I blinked, then widened my eyes, "Of course."  
  
She handed me several small bags, I checked in them, discovering the elvish waybread lembas wrapped in the leaves of the mallorn, and several water skins, as well as more practical things, like a tin pot and fire-starting flint. There were also several changes of trousers and shirts for me, and a few small elven knives. I looked at her, surprised. "My thanks, my Lady."  
  
"You lost much in the dark of Moria. I would not see you leave my domain with less than you need."  
  
I stood and hugged her. She stiffened, shocked at my familiarity. Then she tentatively hugged me back. "'Driel, we're going to need what you've given us." I pulled back and smiled, surprised to find a tear sliding down my cheek. "I don't want to leave, but we must."  
  
"The world will go on without you."  
  
"But it will end a darker place without us." I moved away, pulling the last of our belongings together. I'd dressed earlier, in the half-light of dawn, pulling on the dragon mail and knives as an old friend and defense against the world. Gandalf had watched me in silence, a sadness in his gaze.  
  
"Are you so sure?"  
  
I turned to her, eyebrow raised, "You've seen visions of me in your Mirror, and you have to ask?"  
  
"Then you shall go with the luck of Galadriel." She caught my head in her hands and kissed my forehead. "And may it bring you comfort in the dark times to come."  
  
I caught her hand, "May you find comfort as well. Don't despair in Celeborn. We woke him, I rather doubt he'll remain locked in himself again."  
  
She smiled, it was almost lascivious. "We shall see."  
  
I watched her leave, almost floating as she strode majestically out of the set of rooms we'd been given. "Yes, we shall..."  
  
--  
  
We walked south, following the river for a time before slowly stepping into the woods to our west. Lothlorien seemed far behind us by the end of the first day. By the end of the second, I was wishing we'd never left. Gandalf had seemed not himself the moment we left Lorien, and he had slipped further into odd mutterings and ruminations. He drew away from me, sleeping on his own, robes wrapped tightly. I let him, since it was his life, not mine. But I missed curling up to sleep at night with him.  
  
After the third day, we descended into grass-plains, where a horse awaited us. Or, rather, a herd of them. At their head was a tall, proud white stallion. Next to him stood a pale green mare. She wore a small saddle, its girth still snug under her belly, and no bridle.  
  
::Nice of you to join the party.::  
  
I raised an eyebrow at her, ::And what are you doing hanging out with His Studlyness?::  
  
Alayna snorted, swishing her mane about. Gandalf walked towards the white stallion, pleased. "Marya, I'd like you to meet Shadowfax, the stallion of the plains whom only I have tamed."  
  
I nodded to the stallion, then pointed at the green horse. "I'd like you to meet my companion, Alayna. She's an idiot."  
  
Alayna snorted, glaring at me. ::I'll get you for that.::  
  
::You can always try.::  
  
Gandalf bowed to Alayna, then called Shadowfax over. The stallion strode proudly to him, sleekness and smugness in every line.  
  
::How come you don't come when I call?::  
  
::Busy.::  
  
I looked at her suspiciously as she came towards me and let me attach the packs to the saddle. ::With what?::  
  
::Oh... This and that.::  
  
::Sending me nightmares.::  
  
::And, well.... Shadowfax is a NICE piece of ass.::  
  
I choked. ::What? I've been off getting killed, and you've been boinking the King of the Horses?::  
  
::Priorities, dearest.::  
  
::Y'know,:: I mounted, letting her follow Shadowfax and Gandalf as we trotted across this lip of plain, heading for the darkness of a forest. ::I thought Companions avoided horses, like humans avoid idiots.::  
  
::Well, he's not just *any* horse. He's the King of the Horses. Besides, wouldn't you still be jumping Gandalf's bones if he were stupid?::  
  
I pondered. ::Maybe.::  
  
::And might I note that thanks to you, several of the herd are now in heat.::  
  
::ME?::  
  
::What, you didn't think lust would echo down our bond? It had to go *somewhere*::  
  
I snickered, ::I've just thought of something, O Wise One.::  
  
::Yeah?::  
  
::Birth control.::  
  
::Horses don't need it--well, not naturally, anyway.::  
  
::Oh, I wasn't talking about horses.::  
  
::Then--oh. Oh, fuck.:: She blushed, her coat turning a sort of appley-red. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.  
  
::I hope we're not in the middle of some battle in nine months.::  
  
::This is all your fault.::  
  
::I beg to differ. You were boinking the King long before Gandalf and I did the horizontal mambo.::  
  
She snorted, and shut me out, irritated. Probably because I couldn't get pregnant. Not my fault, really, I just was Immortal, and the whole reproductive systems of Immortals sort of got shut down. Oh, we could have sex to our hearts' content, but children there never were.  
  
Night fell as we entered the forest, and we almost immediately set up camp. Alayna and Shadowfax went off, frisking through the edge of the forest and the plain. ::Back tomorrow, sometime.::  
  
::Wench.::  
  
::We're bored with the whole sleeping thing, human.::  
  
::Riiight.:: I offered to take first watch, and Gandalf curled into his now-white cloak and slept immediately.  
  
I was betting I wouldn't get any sleep. Nightmares, or something else, would keep me awake. And so I decided to let Gandalf have the whole night to snooze in.  
  
Something in the forest rustled, and I decided to take a look. Setting a quick trip-spell that would alert me should something disturb the camp, I slipped into the trees.  
  
They welcomed me, not as Lorien had, but with a watchfulness that threatened certain malice if I misbehaved. I wasn't planning to.  
  
I walked for some time, skirting within the tree line, sensing that I was suddenly required somewhere. The trees were beginning to rustle in agitation, and I sped up, wishing I'd thought to wake Gandalf. The urgency deepened, and I was running, trusting to my spatial sense to dodge around anything that might get in the way.  
  
Firelight from ahead distracted me, and I slowed, watching it. Three were seated around it, but it wasn't them I was being drawn to.  
  
A fourth man sat on my side of the fire, his clothing white. I sensed a massive amount of malevolence from him, and knew I'd found the reason the forest was upset.  
  
I waited, and he suddenly left the fireside, heading back towards me. The moment he was out of sight of his fireside companions I jumped him. Probably not the most finesse-worthy approach, but I was irritated, and bored.  
  
He squeaked before my fingers closed on certain nerves, then went limp, and I dragged him away from the fire and the three (who felt familiar, but now wasn't the time to deal with that), heading further into the west.  
  
Eventually, I stopped, dumping him into a hollow, and covered him over with bracken and other things, including some squirmy bugs. I couldn't kill whoever this was, but irritating the hell out of him was on my To-Do list.  
  
I felt tired, then, having spent half the night tromping through the woods. With a yawn, I worried about Gandalf, then decided he could take care of himself. I wandered away from the unconscious wizard and found a nice tree to climb, curled up in the branches and fell into a doze.  
  
--  
  
I awoke to sunlight dappling the forest in gold, and yawned, completely refreshed. The air of Fangorn seemed invigorating, and I entertained very naughty thoughts before I remembered that I had left my lover far away.  
  
"Damn..." With a sigh I dropped from my tree and pondered where to go. I had apparently gotten myself lost, or at least slightly stranded, so I decided to head for high ground, maybe suss out where I was over the treetops.  
  
For a while I walked, trying to find a sense of height with my spatial sense. Eventually, I spotted one, and turned north. As I neared it, I realised that others had been this way. Unless my tracking skills were failing, two hobbits, and a few others. I frowned. And someone with a staff.  
  
Gandalf had been given a lovely staff by Galadriel, but he wouldn't have made it this far, would he have?  
  
Unless he was looking for me. I blushed slightly, then headed for the hill I'd sensed.  
  
There were people talking, about halfway up, and to my right. I headed towards the voices, realising they were familiar.  
  
Apparently, three people were confronting Gandalf. I recognised the voices of Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas quickly, and started to say something, then stopped, deciding to wait.  
  
They were telling Gandalf of his meeting them last night at their fire, and I realised I'd dragged off what had to have been Saruman. Pity I hadn't realised it before, I wouldn't have minded returning some of the pain he'd given Gandalf. Even if Fate would have been irritated.  
  
"You must be Saruman, you're wearing white." Gimli decided, starting forward again with his ax.  
  
"Actually, he's Gandalf the White now." I announced from where I stood behind them all.  
  
They whirled to stare at me, shock and surprise on their faces. Gandalf cast me a reproving look, but I ignored it for the questions about to come.  
  
"You fell." Aragorn noted, "The roof took the both of you into the abyss."  
  
"We..." I looked at Gandalf and shrugged, "We survived. Barely. I'm sure Gandalf will tell you more if you wish."  
  
"My Lady Rainbow!" Gimli caught my hand and kissed it, "I was fraught with sadness at your loss, and I see your hair has been sundered as a result."  
  
I touched the cap of curls and smiled, "Sort of."  
  
Legolas clasped my arm, smiling, "My bow and heart are glad at your coming."  
  
"But what of the others of the Fellowship?" Gandalf demanded, "What has become of them?"  
  
"Pippin and Merry were captured by orcs. Boromir fell defending them." Aragorn replied sadly, I caught something in his eyes when he mentioned Boromir, but didn't press him. "As for Frodo and Sam, they have taken the ring to Mordor."  
  
"The Fellowship has broken." Legolas said softly.  
  
I snorted, "Only bent. At least we are alive. And, come, tell us of Pippin and Merry."  
  
"They were captured three days ago, we have followed their trail across the plains of Rohan. It ended at the edge of the forest, where the Rohirrim destroyed the orcs. Of the hobbits, there was no sign." Aragorn sighed, "We hoped they might have come into the forest, but we have been unable to find them."  
  
"If they're in torment," Gimli began.  
  
"They are not." I said, concentrating. "They are alive, yet... Distant." I frowned, trying to decipher what I was getting through the slight bond I had with the two hobbits. I have a tendency to collect mental bonds with the people I travel with. They're usually not noticeable and only aid in finding someone when lost. But emotions could travel them, and I sensed nothing bad from the two.  
  
"Either way, it does not matter," Gandalf announced, "I have long felt that there was a need to remove Saruman from Orthanc. We must travel to Edoras, and gain the help of the Rohirrim, if we are to succeed."  
  
"We had a report from one of the Riders, one Eomer, that the King has ordered you banished from his land, Mithrandir," Legolas reported.  
  
"Then we'll have to change his mind, won't we?" I replied with a smile.  
  
-- 


	9. Butterfly Wings

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Nine: Butterfly Wings  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
Gandalf led the way, and we came to the edge of the forest about an hour later. Shadowfax, Alayna, and a herd awaited us there. I snorted as she winked at me. Her saddle was still on her back, slightly loosened, but intact. I tightened the band and mounted, the others following me. Gimli and Legolas shared a horse while Aragorn took one of his own.  
  
The plains were flat for miles around us, waving seas of grass and small flowers. Gandalf took the lead, and we nearly flew.  
  
::We came here last night.::  
  
::Oh?::  
  
Alayna made a sort of hop as she galloped, then smoothed her gait again. ::Of course. That nasty bastard Saruman was around.::  
  
::Nice of you to tell me. Could have ended this problem last night.::  
  
::It's not how it's in the books, kiddo.::  
  
::Riight.:: I snorted, ::Not like I haven't changed Fate before.::  
  
::Not sure you could've killed him, anyway.::  
  
::He's Immortal, like Gandalf?::  
  
::Sort of.::  
  
We were silent for a time, each lost in our own thoughts. Legolas rode up to me, and gestured at Alayna. "How comes the mare by her colour?"  
  
"She's special." I grinned, "She came with me, but we got separated. Besides, she wouldn't have made it through the mountains with us."  
  
He studied the saddle, which was really small, but with tons of little hooks around the cantle. "And the saddle?"  
  
"I can do anything in this saddle that I can on the ground."  
  
"Anything?"  
  
Gandalf looked back at us, his eyes twinkling. I winked at him. "Anything."  
  
The elf chuckled, then pointed far ahead of us, "The city is close."  
  
Edoras. Galadriel had told me what she knew of it. The seat of the Kings of Rohan, the Lord of the Riders of the Mark. The Rohirrim, Horse Lords, who prided their horses as near as they prided their children. The current King was Theoden, and he had a son, Theodred, and two young relatives, a niece and a nephew.  
  
Rumour was that strange things were happening within the King's Hall. He had a bad advisor, who stayed his hand when he would fight off the Nazgul. Or, at least, that's what her Mirror had shown her.  
  
Just what was true and wasn't, we would find out shortly.  
  
The guards at the gate refused to let us in at first, but were quickly convinced, since Gandalf sweet-talked them in their own tongue. Or maybe it was the shock of seeing Shadowfax. Not sure. We were led through to the Hall, our horses taken off to be cared for.  
  
We reached the door to the Hall, and were confronted by a new obstacle. "I am the Doorward of Theoden. Hama is my name." He was slightly younger than the others, but a nice looking man. Probably one of those terribly honest types whose loyalty never falters. "Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter."  
  
Idiot.  
  
Taking the weapons from a group of warriors is not conducive to getting their trust. But we needed to talk to this king dude, so I was good, and handed over my sword and boot knives. Those were the only weapons you could see, and I was betting he wasn't going to pat down a woman.  
  
I was right.  
  
Legolas was after me, entreating the young man to care for the bow and arrows, "For they come from the Lady of the Golden Wood."  
  
Hama looked almost fearful as he hastily set the bow and quiver against the wall, "No man shall touch them, that I promise you."  
  
I'd forgotten that Aragorn was Heir to the Throne of Gondor. He was watching me and Legolas, as if wishing we hadn't given in so easily. "It is not for me to leave Anduril at the side of my road, whosoever commands it."  
  
"It is the will of Theoden, the King here." Hama replied, looking troubled.  
  
Something told me he didn't always agree with his King. Good lad.  
  
"But should the will of the King of the Mark override that of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's Heir of Gondor?" Aragorn shook his head, hand on his sword-hilt.  
  
"This is the house of Theoden, not of Aragorn, even were he king of Gondor in the seat of Denethor." Hama declared, moving in front of the door and pulling his sword out.  
  
I could guess where this was going, and stepped forward, hand out. "Gentlemen. We're not here as enemies, we're here as friends."  
  
"My Lady, I would set this sword aside were it any but Anduril."  
  
"Aragorn," I turned to him, my hand on his arm, "I understand. But the Lord of the house has requested thus of us. I followed his command, as has Legolas." I tilted my head at Gimli, "As shall Gimli, I believe. My friend, we are not over matched, but let us not spend this day in haste."  
  
He sighed and unbuckled the sword, setting it carefully next to Legolas' bow. "Guard and protect this. It is the sword that was broken and is now reforged."  
  
Hama nodded, "I shall."  
  
Gimli set his ax down next to Anduril, "With Anduril to keep it company, my ax shall feel no shame."  
  
The next argument was over Gandalf's staff, and that was interrupted by a young woman appearing in the doorway.  
  
"The Lord Theoden says to leave the wizard his staff and stop this fishmongering on his doorstep."  
  
She was blonde, and would have been pretty if she hadn't looked so tired and grave. I saw her glance at Aragorn and give a start. I raised an eyebrow; yeah, he was a cupcake, but Gandalf was better. Or maybe her sudden interest was in Aragorn's proclaimed Kingshipness.  
  
We fell in behind Gandalf; I naturally took the rearguard. He strode into the Hall, his personality seeping through the musty air before him. The place might have been nice, if there had been more light. Windows were obviously something the designers hadn't understood. Torches dotted the walls, but did little to relieve the gloom, and the doors really needed to be thrown open. The gym-socks smell was almost over-powering.  
  
"Hail, Theoden son of Thengel! I have returned. For behold! The storm comes and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed." Gandalf spread his arms grandly.  
  
The young woman stood at the bottom of a set of stairs, at the midpoint crouched a man, and I knew him for something evil before he even turned a malevolent eye on Gandalf. At the top of the stairs, an old man sat in his throne, curled as if in pain and doubt.  
  
Pity tugged at me, but I shoved it away, studying the lines of power that eddied in the air around him and the evil thing. Much had passed from him to his master, chilling the bone, turning his brain into a suspicious, paranoid mass, and his body into a lump of age and fatigue. Some slight spell had been cast, too. Perception being nine-tenths of reality, usually.  
  
King Theoden not only believed himself incapable of being strong. He currently WAS incapable. The woven lies and web of weakness wrapped him deeply, and I studied it for a moment before slashing outwards, scything through it like a hot knife through butter. Sticky strands touched me as I unraveled them, and a momentary sense of weariness stole over me. I shook it off, and fought back, hands and arms at my side, mind doing the work.  
  
I tuned back in to the real world to find Theoden denouncing Gandalf as a deceiver and bringer of evil tidings. Too much for me, really, I started to step forward, and found Aragorn holding my arm, his face grave. Shit. This was Gandalf's battle, much as I hated to admit it.  
  
But I had been there. I was the messenger of Death and Fate. And oh, it hurt to let someone else carry that burden.  
  
"Deceiver? I bring you the truth. It is this Wormtongue at your feet who would twist lies into the weft of life."  
  
"Gandalf Stormcrow, yet again you bring suffering and anguish to this house," The one called Wormtongue straightened, glaring at Gandalf. "For even yesterday, young Eomer returned with news of your allies' travels; for his treachery, he has been imprisoned. And this morning, Theodred son of Theoden is struck down in the west."  
  
"And you think it my fault?" Gandalf snorted, straightening his back and standing tall. There was suddenly a great sense of majesty about him, and I fought back a smile, proud. "I come to you in a time of need, Lord Theoden! And you hide behind this gibbering fool of an advisor!"  
  
"I told you to remove his staff at the door. Hama has betrayed us all," Wormtongue squeaked.  
  
"Silence! You have spoken your last poison in this house, Oh Wormtongue!" A crack of thunder echoed in the hall, and bright light spilled from the man I'd called my lover for the past several weeks. I winced. He was over-shooting the spell's size. Guessing it to be much larger than it was. Partially my fault for already beginning the unraveling process. And, partially because he expected it to be larger.  
  
The light became too bright even for me to watch, and then it smashed at the web of lies and deceit. I sensed the backlash coming and headed it off, pulling the energy into my own shields and spells.  
  
With another bang, the hall fell silent, and I opened my eyes, unsurprised to find Wormtongue flat on his face in front of us.  
  
"Now, Lord Theoden, do you not wish to receive my counsel? For much is dark and woe, yet light still shines through in the darkest dawn." Gandalf snorted, "Too long have you sat in this twilight hall, awaiting your death. Arise, Lord of the Mark, and show the Dark Lord that not all of Rohan has become infested with darkness!"  
  
Slowly, Theoden rose from his chair, and I sensed that he was confused, yet angry at suddenly understanding the Wormtongue and his purpose. The young woman came up to his side, and held his arm as he descended the steps.  
  
Light started to echo into the hall, as if the long banishment had made it wary of intruding. We made our way back to the doors, and Gandalf knocked on them, crying for their open. Moments later, the King stood on his steps, gazing out into the sun-filled plains. "Come, Theoden, breath of the free air, and remember your heritage!"  
  
The King released the woman's arm, and stepped down into the courtyard with Gandalf. As he did so, I saw his back straighten, years falling away. If I hadn't known how young the man really had been, this would have been shocking. I heard several onlookers gasp in surprise.  
  
Hama was standing at my side, and I sidled closer, "Hey. You might want to release young Eomer from his prison, now that Wormie isn't in your Lord's head."  
  
"My lady, I--"  
  
I smiled, "I shall take full responsibility." My eyes darkened as I sensed that someone had finally noticed the breaking of Wormtongue's spells. "And it may not matter who does, in the days to come, for the darkness is coming. And your Lord shall need all the arms he has."  
  
That seemed to satisfy him, and he slipped down the steps, intent on his mission. I turned towards the west, feeling along the broken spell-strands for that echo of startled rage I had sensed. But it was gone now, buried in other matters, and I sighed.  
  
"You are... wise, I think."  
  
"Am I?" I looked at the young woman, recognising the pride and sadness in her. She had stood by her King all these years, unable to halt the Wormtongue, yet unwilling to leave. The marks of long weariness were upon her, and I smiled, "My lady, I am Marya."  
  
"I am Eowyn, daughter of the brother of Theoden, King of the Mark." She tried to answer my smile, something like hope in her eyes. "You have brought evil tidings, yet I see some good has come of it. My Lord no longer listens to the Grima of Ill advice."  
  
"Yes, well... Gandalf the White does have that effect on people." For several minutes Gandalf engaged the king in soft discussion. I took the time to close my eyes and focus on the faraway sense that was Isengard. Evil lay there, and much pain. A flash of the future caught me, and I fought to not cry out as I saw my friends horribly struck down, their limbs hewed from their bodies before they fell into pits of fire.  
  
I dragged myself from these images to find Eomer was returned from his cell. There was a muttered outcry from those around us, but Aragorn greeted the lad gladly, and I noted the resemblance between my current companion and Eomer. "Your brother?"  
  
"Yes." She smiled. For an instant, her cares were gone, and I saw a lovely woman who would one day rule at the side of greatness. Then the vision faded, and she was merely blonde and weary again.  
  
"My King shall forgive him his impertinence, I believe. Now that he is awake and aware, he must."  
  
I hoped she was right. Below us the king watched the man approach, offering him his sword in allegiance. For a moment, the king seemed bent on refusing. Then he accepted the sword of Eomer, and then Aragorn's after. Gimli and Legolas chimed in. Gandalf chuckled at the display of fealty and proclaimed us well armed. I decided I wasn't ready to declare loyalty to anybody yet, though.  
  
"You were right. I am glad, for we shall need him in the battles to come." A sense of darkness touched me, and I shivered, "And that shall be soon. My pardon, my lady, but I must speak." Turning to those gathered below us, I cried, "Hark! The shadow of Saruman is swiftly approaching!"  
  
Gandalf tossed me an amused look, "The Lady Luthien is correct, my Lord. We need as many as can be mustered in four hours, then we must ride for Isengard."  
  
"Actually, sweetie, I meant him." The company turned as one to behold the creature I held in one hand. Grima Wormtongue had skulked from the hall, probably intent on sneaking off. Bad idea, with me around.  
  
I stood back and let them handle the disposition of the disgusting bastard. I was actually rather impressed with the King's mercy. For he allowed the man to live, even giving him a horse.  
  
The next order of business was mustering those troops around Edoras. We were given four hours to do so, by Gandalf's request and Theoden's orders. I sensed that Gandalf was worried, and prodded him mentally. His reply was a mental smack. So I gave him a glare and went off to help Eowyn provision the troops.  
  
An army marches on its stomach, they say. It's very true. Especially an army that is going to have to set in for a siege. At least, that's what my instincts were saying, and Eowyn confirmed them by mentioning something called Helm's Deep. I didn't press her for more details, since I felt that worrying her was needless. She might lose both brother and uncle over the next few days. She would need all the strength she had.  
  
I found the Lady of Rohan to be extremely competent, if not somewhat proud. I did my best to amuse and lighten her disposition, for much darkness would hold the days ahead.  
  
::Getting cryptic in your old age.::  
  
::Shut up, horse.::  
  
An hour before we were to leave it was decided that Eowyn would lead the remaining people of Edoras into the hills and thence to Dunharrow where they would be safe. I approved, since she needed something to do, and coming with us wasn't possible.  
  
"To ensure their safe journey, the Lady Eowyn shall be accompanied by Marya Luthien." Gandalf added.  
  
"Oh, like HELL." I snorted, "You lot are going to *need* me in the battles to come."  
  
"The Lady Marya is quite impressive in battle." Legolas noted. I wasn't a lady, but it was nice to be dubbed one.  
  
"'Twould be folly, when we need as many able to fight as possible." Aragorn pointed out.  
  
"I cannot believe a woman--"  
  
"Right." I interrupted Theoden. "Let's have a demonstration, shall we?" Gandalf and I would *talk* later. He had much to answer for, trying to leave me behind. Probably some belated chivalry shit. Right now, though, these people needed to understand my worth as a fighter.  
  
::Your helm's not gonna fit.:: Alayna noted.  
  
::Good thing I don't wear one.:: I replied. I held my arms out and waited. They all sort of stared at me, uncertainly. "Oh, c'mon, gentlemen. It can't be that hard. Raise a sword and try to hit me. Look, I'll even stand right here."  
  
"You are unarmed." Someone called from the side. I didn't notice who it was.  
  
"Oh. Right. Um, if someone could hand me a sword, or give me mine?" I'd sort of forgotten to retrieve it earlier, and it still leant against the wall of the Hall, my boot knives lay next to it. They say memory is the first thing to go when you reach old age.  
  
"I'd be honoured if you would use mine, Lady." Hama held out his sword hilt first and I took it.  
  
Nice balance on the blade and the few passes I made caused me to smile, "Right. Who's first?"  
  
::No, no, What's on second?:: Alayna quipped.  
  
Aragorn stepped forward, sword held at the ready. I let him engage me for a moment, then used a trick I'd been taught in the 15th century by a bullfighter in Spain. We ended up with his sword some distance away and mine at his throat. "Now. If this had been real battle, I wouldn't have bothered disarming you. I'd have just killed you."  
  
"The Lady has made her point." Gandalf said wearily. "She shall join us."  
  
"Smart man." I smiled at him, cheerfully. "I'd have just followed you anyway."  
  
I was later to learn that Hama had taken the blame for bringing Eomer from the cells and had been settled as Eomer's lieutenant as a result. I didn't mind, but if the fate had been execution, that would have bothered me.  
  
At the moment, though, it was time for those who had been able to prepare to leave. Riding like the wind towards Isengard. The king left orders for a mustering to arrive at Edoras in four day's time. This group would travel down to Gondor, and help the city of Minas Tirith in her endless toil against the evil in the East. I was all for that, but Saruman needed to be smacked down first.  
  
The King mounted and rode to the head of the column, Gandalf at his side on Shadowfax. He turned to his people, and cried, "Arise now, arise, Riders of Theoden! Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward. Let horse be bridled, let horn be sounded! Forth Eorlingas!"  
  
"WESTU THEODEN HAI!" The troops responded, their banners waving in the breeze, their hearts and souls light and fierce.  
  
And with that, we started off onto roads that would lead to death. And, possibly, sex.  
  
::Gods... I thought you'd be sated by now.::  
  
::Hell, no. That man has no idea how voracious I am.::  
  
::Great.:: Alayna sighed, then brightened, ::Well, where he goes, so goes Shadowfax.::  
  
::You're pregnant, remember?::  
  
::No duh. Doesn't mean I'm dead.::  
  
--  
  
Gandalf had been dubbed the White Rider by Aragorn. Many of the troops picked up the title and called him that. I seemed to go by Lady Rainbow usually, until Alayna and I performed a few tricks to lighten the mood. Then I began hearing Green Rider, as my title. It was amusing, really. I'd picked up almost as many names as I had titles in one far away world.  
  
Lady Rainbow. Marya Luthien. Green Rider. I could handle those. They were terms of respect and awe, and sometimes a little bit of hero-worship. Which hurt no one, since these people NEEDED something to give them hope.  
  
And I was that. Sort of. Gandalf and Aragorn were less ethereal, I think. Because I was a woman, and a warrior, and a sorceress, I seemed to possess their minds and hearts.  
  
I don't like doing that, often. Being worshipped is not good for the ego over time. Absolute power corrupts, even if you're only using it for good.  
  
Many of the current troop were seasoned men who had fought border skirmishes over the years. A few were young men who had never been in any sort of battle. But the mix was good for our eventual success. I hoped. I worried as we rode that some might break and run, but something told me they all loved their plains, and would fight to the death to keep them free of evil.  
  
When night closed on us, we rode until the moon left the sky. Then Theoden ordered a rest, and many simply cast themselves down where they stood, exhausted beyond all measure.  
  
I spent the night walking the camp, restless to be on towards our destination. Gandalf watched me silently, and at times, I sensed he wanted to talk, but we didn't. It was frustrating, in a way. He'd tried to keep me in Edoras--or rather, Dunharrow. And I wondered if it had been for my own protection, or if he was afraid I would bring destruction upon us.  
  
No sex, either.  
  
Either way, it was enough to keep me awake and stalking the plains around us. I searched for solace, but knew it wouldn't be found this easily. There was more pain to come, and less to live for.  
  
The last reason for not sleeping was the encroaching nightmares I would have. I could sense them on the edge of the night, waiting for me to sleep so they could prophesize the death of the people I held dear and the destruction of nations and freedom. I wasn't in the mood for ignoring them. And walking was better for the circulation.  
  
Besides. If I had to, I could nap in the saddle.  
  
::Just don't fall out of it.::  
  
::Like I would.::  
  
She didn't answer that, so I continued walking until dawn lit the sky, and the troops were ordered to march again.  
  
The day went on as before, though we began to see signs of the darkness in Isengard as we rode. Legolas could see vast creatures doing things in the darkness which surrounded the fastness of the Isen. Toward evening, the sky was darker than it should have been. And a man awaited us far ahead, his weariness evident even at this distance.  
  
He reported that the forces of Saruman had pushed them back across the Isen, costing many lives. And Erkenbrand had taken the remainder to Helm's Deep. I shivered. The name had echoed in my dreams long nights before. It was time to go there.  
  
With an army of orcs and hillmen dogging our heels. I sensed them in the distance, marching like maggots across decaying meat.  
  
::Alayna...:: I pondered, studying the columns, then looking back towards Isengard. The army was thundering towards us, near enough to catch us out in the open. If we ran, we'd make it, probably. With them on our heels, and no time to prepare for anything. Half a day's march, or more. We'd get there at night, have no time for rest, and have to fight...  
  
She caught the way my mind was wandering and snorted, ::Good plan. I don't like it, but it's a good plan.::  
  
::Yeah. Not too thrilled myself.:: She took us towards Gandalf, Aragorn and the others at the head of the company. "My King, I'm afraid that Alayna and I must part company with you."  
  
"My Lady, why leave us now?" The King seemed to be surprised, and possibly hurt.  
  
Gandalf was watching the north, almost distracted, but I let him. "My King, I was trained as a skirmisher long ago. As it is, we will make shelter only to turn with the dogs on our heels." I smiled grimly, "I can do much to harry their progress, so that time may be taken to prepare the Deep for war."  
  
"Theoden, her counsel is wise. And, I, too, must depart. For Isengard, and what goes on there needs investigating." Gandalf pointed Shadowfax towards the north, a course which would take him straight through the advancing army. "I shall meet you at Helm's Deep ere I can."  
  
"Go, then, the both of you."  
  
I half-bowed, then nodded to Aragorn, "Keep them alive."  
  
"My Lady."  
  
Alayna and I turned, settling next to Gandalf and Shadowfax. "Shall we fly, my love?"  
  
::Yes!::  
  
"Indeed." Gandalf replied, studying me a moment, before sending his horse off with a soft nudge.  
  
We followed, hooves moving swiftly over the turf as legs pounded in a fast gallop which whipped mane into face and tail behind as a banner.  
  
Within the hour, we had neared the army, and I knew that my estimate had not only been right, but that it would have been wrong. Too short a time to make the Deep. I grabbed Gandalf's arm as we slowed, and turned him. "I love you, you old git. Don't do anything stupid."  
  
His eyes lightened, and he smiled and leant over to kiss me. "Follow your own advice, Marya Luthien."  
  
"I never do that. It might let someone get killed."  
  
He snorted, then clucked to Shadowfax, and they were off, disappearing into the trees that covered the side of the road. I waited for several minutes, then dismounted and paced a line across the road. "This could be good enough."  
  
::You're talking aloud again.::  
  
"I know. Shush. I need absolute concentration."  
  
::Riiight.::  
  
I shot her an exasperated glance, then grabbed a tree branch and drew a line across the road. "Right. Let's see if I can remember how to do this."  
  
With my eyes closed, I stood in the middle of the road, palms at chest-height hovering over the line I'd drawn. I visualised that line, building upon it layer by layer a tall barrier thick enough to stop arrows, yet just thin enough to let people through if they pushed together. I let it edge itself up until it was twice my height, then halted it. With another effort of will, I gathered the wall, weaving pain spells into it that would shock any running into it. Then I angled the edges into the trees for fifty yards to either side. The diagonal would herd any who attempted the woods back towards the center.  
  
Carefully, I disengaged my hands from it, perspiration dotting my brow and soaking my back. It was easier and easier to do spells here, but it still wasn't as simple as they could have been.  
  
Ahead of me on the road, the army had gotten much closer. Almost close enough to see me, but that might spoil my plans. With a curse I turned and vaulted onto Alayna's back, and we melted into the forest, traveling to the west of the army, then angling back to attack the flank with several quick surgical strikes. 


	10. Whirling Skirmishes

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Ten: Whirling Skirmishes  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
My sword was coated in blood by that evening, as I'd cut into both flanks time and again, losing three knives to frisky hillmen. By attrition, I had probably killed over 300. Yet, that was nothing compared to the nearly 10,000 which marched onwards. They had been hampered by the shield for several hours before finally shattering it with a combined rush. The backlash had caught me as I rode to the east, looking for any stragglers on that side.  
  
I fell from the saddle, the magical backlash setting up a reaction headache that nearly blacked me out. With barely a moment's notice, I rolled, retching into the moss at the base of a tree as the echoes rang through my skull like a thousand million jackhammers on First Avenue.  
  
For several minutes I fought the overwhelming sickness back, knowing I couldn't let it win. I had to keep the army busy until the good guys made it to the Deep. Or all was lost in this early hour.  
  
Alayna stayed silent, watching the forest around us, knowing any attempt to help on her part would probably hurt until I got the pain under control. And I was vulnerable like this, unable to function on any but the most basic levels. Finally, I shook myself into some semblance of order, and crawled away from the tree I'd rolled to.  
  
"Don't suppose there's any food in my saddle bags?"  
  
::Did you put any there?:: she asked gently.  
  
"Not sure." I slowly stood, using her as a ladder. "I damned well hope so, or we're going to have to find a source of protein REAL quick."  
  
There was some lembas left, and a few strips of some meat jerky. I wolfed them down, washing my impromptu meal into my stomach with water procured from the streams in Edoras. It wasn't that bad, and I was glad I'd gotten extra water bottles.  
  
My stomach gurgled a slight protest, then settled down. And my head began to feel less painful as my electrolite levels resettled at a normal spot. "Right. Where were we?" I asked as I remounted.  
  
::Running skirmishes.:: She replied, trotting back towards the line of the army. ::But I think we need to check its progress.::  
  
::They're past my barrier, now. What else do we need to know?::  
  
::How many died there? How fast they're going to make up for it?::  
  
::They have to tire sometime, right?::  
  
::Not according to what I got out of Gandalf.::  
  
I blinked. ::Wha?::  
  
::Later.:: She replied shortly.  
  
There was apparently going to be a lot of laters.  
  
In silence, we headed towards the spot I'd set the barrier. The road was empty, the army having passed through quick enough for us to miss them. Not really good, but I could deal. ::Another barrier?::  
  
::You want more backlash? What, are you a masochist?::  
  
::It's either that or they make the Deep on the heels of my friends.::  
  
She sighed and began galloping away from the road so as to come around to the front of the army, ::You'd kill yourself for these people?::  
  
::Have once. Will again, probably.::  
  
::Idiot.::  
  
::Horse.::  
  
An hour, and many insults, later, we were once again in front of the army, though this time, we could see them in the distance, marching hard. I hopped to the ground and held out my arms to either side, deciding on a different barrier, this time. With a shove, I displaced air, creating a barrier thin enough to let arrows through. But thick enough to still only let them through a few at a time.  
  
Then I remounted, strung my bow and waited, arrows ready.  
  
::You're an idiot.::  
  
::It's going to go down quicker, this time.::  
  
::Less pain?::  
  
::Only if I take it down first.::  
  
::Great. So I have to watch the stupid wall.:: She sounded resigned. I smiled.  
  
::Thanks.  
  
::What the hell else am I for?::  
  
::Companionship, friendship, frank discussion of sexual practises from a thousand universes and fifty million galaxies.::  
  
::Softie.::  
  
I chuckled, and raised my bow, knocking an arrow. ::Well, I have to be, with you around.::  
  
::Awww. I feel all warm and squooshy.::  
  
The first orc hit the barrier, and stopped. I waited for more to crowd it, then let loose an arrow, striking the first one. Quickly, the others crowded up to the barrier, shoving at it. Five popped through and I picked them off before killing four more of their comrades behind the barrier.  
  
A cry went up as they spotted me finally, standing in the middle of the road, green horse beneath me, "Green Rider! Bring his head to Saruman!"  
  
::HIS?:: I shot several more, anger colouring my aim, leaving them viciously dead, arrow-shafts protruding from eye-sockets and groins.  
  
"Take him, my lads! There'll be gold and jewels for all!" One of the hillmen cried, rage and fear in his face as I picked off the man standing next to him.  
  
::Another thirty seconds, I think.::  
  
I sent a rash of arrows through the barrier, then dissipated it with a word. Alayna wheeled, and we ran down the road, the army pursuing us angrily.  
  
::I think you pissed them off.::  
  
"Good. Idiots. Calling me a man. We'll show them just how MANLY I am." I sent her to the east, veering back north as we entered the trees. We hit the flank as it ran by, its momentum unable to stop as we scythed in, and my sword rose and fell, cleaving heads and plate armour as Alayna whirled us through the suddenly confused morass.  
  
A pike caught me under the ribs, and I rolled from the saddle, so as not to get caught in its grasp. I came up fighting, throwing a knife into the eye of my nearest attacker, then slashing the legs out from under several others.  
  
For a moment, they seemed to draw back, then they surged forward, sure they could smash me into little bits. I jumped straight up and came down on the back of one, hearing a satisfying crack from the spine I stood upon before turning to catch three blades on my own sword. With a kick into the face of one, a knife into the neck of another, and several slashes back and forth, I flipped over several more suddenly dead opponents, and found myself standing next to Alayna.  
  
With another swipe, I grabbed the pommel and dragged myself upwards, throwing a leg over her back as she took off, mowing down two orcs who didn't move. I caught another in the throat with the pommel of my sword, and then we were clear, riding back into the trees as I fought the rest of the way into the saddle, then hung on grimly as we ran north. Behind us I could hear them pursuing, their rage and anger getting the best of them for now.  
  
It was enough for my purposes. The main mass would be disrupted for a time before they regrouped enough to continue south and west.  
  
::You ok?::  
  
::Will be. Keep going.:: I crouched low, beginning to feel the marks of battle as bruises slowly announced their presence everywhere.  
  
::Sorry about that. I didn't see him coming.::  
  
I smiled in the near-darkness. ::I know, love.::  
  
:Stupid orc.:: She muttered, ::Who gave them the right to have pikes?::  
  
::Saruman.::  
  
::Pansy-ass wizard. Doesn't even fight his own damn battles. If he were really strong, he'd come kick our asses in person.::  
  
I snickered. ::I've met that pansy-ass. And you're right. He is a coward. But Mordor has him under its spell, and the Ring...::  
  
::Calls him to it.::  
  
::As it does most of us.::  
  
We rode in silence for a time, both lost in our own thoughts. Far behind us, the army slowly regrouped and went on, now even angrier to have been diverted for nothing more than the death of several of its own.  
  
Alayna turned us back south and west, and we slowly caught back up with the troops. ::It's been half the day, do you think they made it?::  
  
::I could check.::  
  
::And fall out of the saddle again?::  
  
::Hey, twice in one day is a rarity. Three times ain't happening. You just watch.:: I closed my eyes and focused into the distance, striving for that 'sense' of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli I had. I was impressed. The troops were further ahead than I'd thought they'd be. From the impressions I was getting, they were nearly to Helm's Deep.  
  
I opened my eyes, and inspected the army that lay close by. ::Think they'll halt for the night?::  
  
::With pansy-ass behind them?::  
  
::No.::  
  
I smiled. ::Time for more fun, then.::  
  
::Ooooh. I love it when you sound silly.::  
  
I was nearly out of arrows, so another frontal assault was out of the question. Besides, they'd be ready for it, and I didn't want to waste energy on a barrier we might not need. Alayna took us north, around the back end, where we picked off several strays before dancing along the right flank, hacking and slashing and ending our run near the middle of the column.  
  
And then she did something I wasn't expecting. Instead of turning back to the north to draw them off, she took us straight out into the road and across the other side. Our speed was so great that nothing hit us, though I did chop about two heads off on the way.  
  
With a cry, several hundred of the hillmen chased us, breaking completely away from the main column. Apparently, we'd finally *really* pissed them off.  
  
She took us south and east, away from Helm's Deep and Saruman's Isengard. We hit plain before too long, and I realised we would be an open target. She did, too, but didn't seem worried. We skirted north, night falling completely and the moonlight illuminating us every so often to the eyes of our pursuers.  
  
They must have had tracking dogs, too, because the few times we tried to shake them off, we found them still behind us. Finally, we resorted to heading back towards the Isen, and I realised about midnight that they had finally stopped following us, heading back towards their own army.  
  
We stopped, then, both of us exhausted. ::Sleep would be good.::  
  
::I know.:: I slid from the saddle and flopped to the road, avoiding a mouthful of dust absently. ::We can't, though.::  
  
::The Deep.::  
  
::Have ta be there.:: I mumbled.  
  
::Y'know, we should've studied some maps of the terrain around here.::  
  
::Oh?:: I dragged myself upright, swaying as fatigue danced across my nerves.  
  
::I'm betting there's a way to get ahead of those damned things again--maybe even an ambush before Helm's Deep.::  
  
Too bad we'd passed burnt-out farms. But there might still be some ahead that were safe. But they'd be emptied. ::Shit.::  
  
::Oh, no. I know what you're thinking, and I'm not gonna do it.::  
  
::We need to know what the land around us looks like.::  
  
::Shapeshifting into a dragon is NOT the way to do that. Use a spell!::  
  
::Too tired.::  
  
::...::  
  
::I know, I know, you hate me.::  
  
::Do I have to go full-dragon?::  
  
::Not if you don't want to. We just need the visual info, even a fly would do.::  
  
::Wait. Got a better idea.::  
  
::Oh?::  
  
::Ride a bat.::  
  
I blinked, pondering the idea. If I could do it, it would take less energy than shapeshifting. And it would actually give me an accurate lay of the land around us. ::I... Hrm.:: Sending my mind into that of a bat was something I hadn't done for a long time. ::I need food, though. Something proteinish, and maybe some greens.::  
  
::Would a rabbit work?::  
  
::Raw?::  
  
::You could fry it with your hex-vision.::  
  
::Don't be silly. Magical fire might attract attention.::  
  
::True. OK. You hop into a bat, I'll go raid a farm for something to eat.::  
  
Delegation at its finest. I moved off the road and settled down at the foot of a tree cross-legged. Closing my eyes, I drifted into a trance, while listening for the tell-tale high-pitched sounds that bats make for navigation and to 'see'.  
  
Hijacking a bat isn't hard, but it takes practice, because bats don't really 'see'. They echo-locate, creating a mini map inside their head that accurately depicts the world around them, down to the little flies in it. I didn't want flies, I needed land mass. But translating that 'image' to what human brains process was sometimes difficult. With time, it gets easier. And I'd had a lot of time.  
  
Sound came from high above, high-pitched chirps that echoed in the sky, and I reached up and lightly touched one of the sound-makers. It was a she, and she seemed content to allow me access to what she saw. I caught impressions of satedness, and realised she had either just eaten or mated. Didn't matter which, she was happy to go on a scouting mission.  
  
We flew into the night, angling south and west, until we came to mountains. Between a high pass, we found what had to be Helm's Deep, surrounded by massive walls of rock, with a small entry-way between the pass opening, and the gates. Around the Dike, there were smaller hills, and I saw ones that would be perfect for what we could do. Well, not SAW. But, 'saw'.  
  
Carefully, I released my hold on the bat queen, and she glided away into the night, cheerful and ready for another meal.  
  
I came to myself, and saw double as I opened my eyes. Two Gandalfs stood above me, both looking equally irritated. I blinked, and they became one, his brows drawn low as he studied me. "Evening, m'love."  
  
"You left yourself open to attack."  
  
"They're all that way." I gestured vaguely to the southwest. "And Alayna's around somewhere." My eyesight was beginning to bleed back into double vision, exhaustion claiming me as I sat there.  
  
::I'm right here. Found some dried venison and smoked yams.::  
  
::Ew. Although the venison sounds good.:: My mouth watered, and I realised it had been a long time since those mouthfuls to stave off backlash shock.  
  
Gandalf glared at Alayna as she shouldered him aside, dropping the pack in her mouth into my lap. I greedily opened it, scrabbling a piece of venison off the haunch and hungrily munching it. After the third strip, I looked up at Gandalf, "Hungry?"  
  
He seemed to have calmed, watching me eat. "Yes."  
  
I held out a strip of meat, and he took it, chewing on it as I took a swig of what should have been water. It wasn't.  
  
::My throat is on fire.::  
  
::Sorry. Thought you'd like something to wake you up.::  
  
Oh, I was awake all right. My mind clear, my taste buds burned away and my throat scalded by the pure grain alcohol I had just gulped down.  
  
Gandalf was staring down at me, worried. "Alcohol?"  
  
I nodded and held the bag up to him. He shook his head and took a sip from the bottle on his belt. "Bloody horse," I rasped.  
  
She snorted.  
  
He knelt next to me and sighed, "I must leave, my dear."  
  
"I'll be fine. I've got a nice spot for an ambush further ahead. I've slowed them enough that our lads reached the Deep a bit before midnight." We stood together and I hugged him. "Again, old man, don't do anything stupid."  
  
Our lips met briefly, then we parted, and I watched him mount Shadowfax with trepidation. This battle wouldn't be the last, but it was the most dangerous. He looked at me one last time, then wheeled the great stallion back to the north and was gone within seconds.  
  
::Love in times of war is so hard.::  
  
"Yes, it is." I swiped at the tears sliding down my cheeks and turned to Alayna. "One last push, dear, and then we'll have companions in battle."  
  
::Oh, good.::  
  
-- 


	11. Shattered Darkness

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Eleven: Shattered Darkness  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
The Dike rose ahead and to our right as we approached it. Behind the Dike lay a long strip of land, banded on the sides by the mountain crags and at the back by massive walls hewn of stone. Probably rock straight from the caves under the Deep. Not far behind us, I could hear the army of Saruman cresting another small rise. The timing of this would be close, but we could do it.  
  
Before the Dike stood many brave men. The rear guard of the Rohirrim, and I was saddened to see them there, for not all would survive the run for the Gate at Helm's Deep.  
  
We waited on our small hill, watching the back road. The hillmen were near the forefront of the column, behind them the orcs and a mix of what seemed to be werewolves and other strange and twisted creations. I stared at them, remembering tales of things wizards would create with power, and feeling sickened.  
  
::Later.::  
  
::Yeah.:: We watched the first phalanx pass us, boots marching in quickstep and echoing in the earth. Far in the fields behind us fires raged, and I felt sickened to know that these things had not only raped the land and its people, but burned it deeply.  
  
They would pay.  
  
Carefully, I gathered a small amount of power, feeding it into the roadway several yards from the front of the troop. As they reached it, I yanked, and the road erupted upwards, dirt and rocks exploding into the men and orcs, sending them into confusion.  
  
I had no battle cry, none I could use responsibly, anyway, so I merely rode down on them silently, trusting that shock and surprise to win us more heads.  
  
We slammed into the side of the phalanx and cut through diagonally leaving death and destruction behind us. As the surprise wore off, the going became more difficult. But my blade was sure and my companion swifter on her feet than they expected.  
  
Breaking free near the front, we rode for the Dike, turning at the last minute to await the oncoming hoards.  
  
"Green Rider! The Green Rider is with us! All hail the Lady Rainbow!" The cry rang up and down the Dike and I blushed, wishing they wouldn't do something so silly. But this was the way they gained hope, and I knew there was little of it.  
  
Quickly, I grabbed the young captain in charge, "Sir! We shall not be able to keep them."  
  
"I know, my Lady."  
  
"Heroism is all well and good, you idiot, but suicide isn't going to keep them from overrunning the Deep."  
  
His face was a mask of sadness as he surveyed his troops. "I know."  
  
I dropped his arm. "I'm sorry. I... I shall stay until the last possible moment. Send who you wish to the Deep, though, for this shall not be a long engagement."  
  
There was no more time to talk, but I caught a faint gratitude in his posture as he turned away and snapped orders to his archers. We raised our bows, then fired. I shot until there were no more arrows in my quiver, then shoved my bow around my shoulder and unsheathed my sword.  
  
Uruk-hai hit us first, massive things that took huge gashes in their hides and didn't fall. Alayna and I were nearly separated twice before I killed the three around us. More surged forward to fill the gap, and I knew the Dike was lost.  
  
I shot a glance around, frantic to find the captain. And watched in horror as he was gutted by an orc. "RETREAT!" I screamed, throat feeling raw, "TO THE GATE!"  
  
Something slammed into the side of my head, and I fell, tumbling from the saddle for the third time that day. Highly irritating, but it happens. I rolled to my feet and fired concussive bolts of energy into the orcs surrounding me. They exploded messily, and I jumped back into the saddle. My sword still in my hand, I used it to decapitate the orc attempting to maul the banner-bearer. I grabbed him by the arm, dragging him up behind me.  
  
::That's it, bitch, we're out of here.:: Alayna announced.  
  
Around me I heard the screams of many, but I couldn't stop. We had to reach the Gate before they closed it on us. The young man clutched my waist, panting rapidly as we galloped. Ahead, I could see some sort of activity, and hoped it meant they were opening the gate. Arrows whistled over my head, and I cursed, hoping the lad wouldn't be hit before we were under cover.  
  
"The Green Rider comes! Hold the gates!"  
  
Hold the gates indeed. The army was closing on us, exhaustion and a long day of skirmishing tiring Alayna to the point that two riders was seriously slowing her down. I twisted around and aimed down my sword-blade, firing several concussive bolts into the first wave. They disappeared in a shower of blood and bone, and the ones behind them slowed for a moment before continuing.  
  
The gate was ahead, then behind us, my legs scraping it as we slid in. They slammed the gates closed completely as we skidded to a halt, and I dropped the kid into the arms of someone, then fell out of the saddle into Eomer's arms.  
  
::I am off to find a nice warm mash.:: Alayna announced wearily.  
  
::Go.:: I let Eomer set me down, and looked around at the others, "Has Gandalf returned?"  
  
"Nay, my lady. The White Rider remains far off from us." Eomer smiled, "But you have returned. Hope is not lost."  
  
"Hope is never lost while there are still those willing to stand and fight the darkness." I tried to smile, and ended up half-grinning. "I'm hoping you have more arrows around?"  
  
"We might be able to find some, yes. But you must come tell my King how you fare."  
  
I shook my head, "Time for tales later, lad. I need to get up to the top of the walls." I turned to look up at them and shivered. Men would die tonight. More than should. More than I wanted to lose.  
  
The courtyard wasn't large, but it was good as a staging place. To the east there was a spot under the walls that a stream came through. I assumed they had someone watching it, but didn't worry overmuch. At the back lay a hulking building, thick stone blocks as its mantle. I was betting that the king was there, and a small guard.  
  
He led me to the armoury, and I grabbed as many quivers as I could hold, then sprinted for the stairs onto the wall. By the time I'd reached the top, my worst fears were confirmed. The enemy was setting seige engines and ladders at the walls, scaling them. As soon as one was sent down, another took its place.  
  
I found Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in the midst of the melee, and joined them, shooting one orc right off the wall.  
  
"Marya!" Aragorn caught my arm, smiling. "Glad I am to see you've made it."  
  
"Same here, guys." I glanced around, and spotted a torch nearby, "Say, you wouldn't know if we're lobbing burning pitch out there, would you?"  
  
"Nay, lady." Legolas shot another arrow down into the morass.  
  
"Oh well." I dropped a quiver and grabbed an arrow, firing into the nearest siege engine. The concussive blast shattered it, sending debris falling into the crowd below. Another and another, I picked them off, cursing. For as soon as I destroyed one, another appeared. And I was running out of the energy to create concussive blasts.  
  
Time passed, Legolas and Aragorn and I spent arrow after arrow, every one hitting a target, every one feeling more and more futile as the hoarde kept coming. Eomer joined us at one point, and he and Aragorn took off to fight sword to sword as they had long ago said they would.  
  
Around us, the men of Rohan fought on bravely. The night was beginning to tinge into grey morning, dawn close. But it wouldn't reach us to do any good, considering the orcs and hillmen had marched all the day before. We were out-numbered by a good 7 to 1, but we would fight unto the death.  
  
Great songs would be sung of our valour, and poems would be written. I grimaced. And those who survived would hold the scars of these days in their hearts forever.  
  
Life sucks, heroes have it the worst. And the common men? They just die over and over again, ground to dust beneath the boots of empires.  
  
We fought because there was no way out, and there was no hope. At least, I felt hopeless. I did my best to keep a happy mind and face to all outward appearances. Legolas may have sensed my disquiet, but he and Gimli were playing a tally game.  
  
The orcs along the walls suddenly heightened their offensive, sending many siege engines and ladders up the walls. I fired down into the eye of one, then realised why they'd started this push.  
  
"Aragorn! The gate!" I didn't know when the Heir to Gondor had reappeared, but he was a welcome sight.  
  
He glanced towards it, and blanched as he saw what I had seen. The orcs had found some massive tree and hacked it down, then stripped its limbs from its body. They were now running it at the gate, smashing it. And they would break it down, given the time. I wasn't about to give them that time, though.  
  
With a muttered curse, I ran along the wall till I was at the gap where the gate lay. I aimed down and fired shooting orc after hillman after hellbeast until there were no arrows left. And they filled the gaps as I killed them. Down in the courtyard, Eomer and several of the Riders were mustering, mounting up and preparing to ambush those who would enter through the gates. I glanced back and found Aragorn right behind me.  
  
Together we ran into the courtyard, and I unsheathed my sword, wishing Alayna weren't napping in a stall somewhere as I reached the cobbled stone.  
  
::I'm not.:: She snapped, skidding to a halt nearby. ::C'mon.::  
  
I climbed into the saddle, wincing as several sore and stiff muscles protested. Then I didn't have time to care as the gates shattered inwards.  
  
"Forth Eorlingas!" Eomer cried.  
  
We surged into the gap, immediately facing multiple enemies on all sides. Alayna and I whirled and danced, sword cleaving heads from bodies, hooves smashing in chests and legs. Around us others did the same, some few fighting for their lives. Nearby a swordsman was unhorsed, his animal going down shrieking. Alayna slid us his way, and we found him still standing, fighting as hard as he could.  
  
I took out two of his opponents, then gestured. He shook his head, face bleak and stabbed another orc. "C'mon!"  
  
"My horse-sister is dead!"  
  
"Fuck that! We need everyone in this battle!" I snapped the neck of a hillman and dropped from the saddle, landing to stand back to back with him. "You're an idiot."  
  
"The Green Rider is--"  
  
He never finished his sentence, as four orcs took my attention away for one second too long, and I turned back to find him spitted on a boar-spear. "NO!"  
  
"My lady..." The light left his eyes, and he died there, broken and defeated.  
  
Something inside me snapped, and I turned, hacking and slashing my way through the line. Rage held me, and I wove a dance of death, every strike building up the energy that writhed around the gates. If Gandalf had been there, he might have stopped me. But I was anger and rage, cold and filled with something that I hadn't felt for a long time.  
  
The magic gathered as I fought, bleeding into the air like a cancerous wave of decay, it began sending the army running from me as I stalked their deaths. Halfway down the valley, I realised we had cleared the gate, and turned back. The surviving force of Rohirrim were staring at me, stricken with fear, and I realised I had let myself go too much.  
  
::Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga.::  
  
It was Alayna, her worry and concern echoing through my head. There was the musty sense that I should be able to answer, that there was something vaguely wrong with my allies and friends looking upon me in horror.  
  
Something struck me in the back, and I lurched forward, startled. I turned, to find the Uruk-hai standing before me, half-bowing as if *I* could command them.  
  
For a long moment, I stared at them, reveling in the power that surged around me, the darkness that touched the edge of my vision.  
  
A flicker of memory slammed into me, and I buckled at the knees, the power fleeing, bottling back into the recesses of the darkness in my mind. I wept there, rocks digging into my hands and knees, crying for the power to come back, to wrap around me again like a warm blanket.  
  
"Marya." Aragorn stood above me, Anduril pointed at the Uruk-hai, who were backing away as if startled.  
  
"Go away." I had failed.  
  
All these years of locking the darkness inside me, and it had spilled out, tainting everything around me, dredging up memories I would rather have never seen again.  
  
He touched my shoulder, and I flinched away from him. "You must come back inside."  
  
"I can't." Leave me out here! I wanted to scream. Let me die, my body turning to so much dust and ash!  
  
"My lady, you must come inside before they finish closing the gate."  
  
I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision, "I failed."  
  
"None of us are perfect, Marya. We all give in to the darkness inside. It is not bad, yet it is not good. Now come inside." He replied simply, hand held out to me.  
  
You can't understand, I thought sadly. I am insane, inside. I am darkness and power, my life is a sham. I hurt things. But I didn't say any of that, I simply took his hand and rose, wiping at my tears, "Let's go in. Before that dwarf closes the gates upon us."  
  
He chuckled, and we ran back inside the gates, turning to help them bolster them against another attack.  
  
Alayna waited for me silently as I strode away towards the armoury, intent on more arrows. ::You can't keep holding yourself to this standard. Everybody slips.::  
  
::When I slip, planets die.:: I replied bitterly.  
  
::Don't be an arrogant bitch. Melodramatic, too.::  
  
::You--::  
  
::"Don't understand." My god, Marya, get the fuck over yourself.::  
  
::No.:: I snorted. My sense of humour was rapidly recovering this latest slam against it.  
  
::There's no time for this.::  
  
::I know.:: Without paying much attention, I grabbed several quivers and ran back to the courtyard. As my foot touched pavement, I heard cries of pain off to my right. And an explosion rocked the ground I stood upon. ::What--?::  
  
"My lady! They breached the wall!" Eomer caught my arm, eyes wide with shock. "We left a guard on the stream, but they over-powered it and set off some sort of wizard-device."  
  
"C'mon." I followed him to the right, Gimli joining us as we ran.  
  
More joined us as we ran, thirty, at most. Aragorn and Legolas were not among them. "Gimli! You shall have a higher tally than the elf after this!"  
  
"Indeed, Lady Rainbow." He sounded pleased.  
  
We hit the advancing band of orcs and hillmen head on, many cries from our throats about glory, honour, death, and Rohan. For a time, both sides might have been evenly matched, then reinforcements arrived on their side, and we were driven back. I led one charge that took us back into the caverns, and they followed us.  
  
Behind them, Eomer led his half into the fray, and the enemy was shocked for an instant, caught between two pincers of death. For that moment, they panicked, and we slew and slew, swords and the rock beneath us saturating with blood. By this time, I'd been covered with blood for ages, now I was soaked in it. It would have been icky, but I hadn't the time to care. The orcs were rallying, and our forces were splintered, not strong enough in half to fight them.  
  
"Eomer! Join us!" I screamed across the gap. He seemed to nod, and as his side moved towards ours, I renewed my attack on the orcs, scattering them long enough for us to regroup.  
  
We fled into the caves, the orcs following us, sure in their victory. One of the men with us knew these caverns, though, and he led us to the spot for a perfect ambush. Gimli stood beside me as he waited, occasional murmurs exclaiming about the caves came from him, and I knew he'd found a place that equaled the beauty of Moria.  
  
A good thing, since Moria was unfathomable, and this was fathomable. I'll admit the caves were quite lovely, jewel-tones shining here and there next to normal stone. Formations that echoed delight and majesty...  
  
The orcs arrived, and we ambushed them, killing many in the first surprise. Then they regrouped, and we found ourselves battling for our lives. Gimli fought well, his ax hewing and cleaving the orcs as if their armour was butter under a hot knife. My sword matched him, and we killed quite a few before the orcs realised their mistake and tried to retreat. But victory was at hand, and we chased them, leaving the bodies of the dead for later.  
  
Eventually, there were no more to kill, and we began retracing our steps, dragging the bodies of the dead behind us as we went. For the thought of leaving them their to befowl the caverns was unthinkable.  
  
I went among the twenty that were left, tending injuries, and offering words of comfort and grace as I could. It felt awkward to do, but I sensed they needed it.  
  
Eomer, I came upon last, dragging the carcass of a great orc. "Need some help?"  
  
"We triumphed, my Lady." He moved, letting me grab hold of a limb.  
  
"Yep." Damned thing was heavier than it looked. My estimation of the lad went up a few notches.  
  
"This was but a small battle, though. A skirmish."  
  
"And you wonder that we have the audacity to win a war with these odds?"  
  
He had no chance to answer, for we had come upon one of our fallen comrades, his body brutally torn and violated. I felt sick, staring at the young man's face. He looked about 15, baby fat still evident.  
  
"The devils..." Eomer knelt next to me, weeping softly. "They could not leave him lie, they had to destroy him."  
  
I reached out and gently closed the eyes staring at us sightlessly. "Often I have seen the winners and the survivors more grievously harmed than those who lost." Bitterness moved through me, exhaustion chasing it, "It never ends, it goes on and on." I wasn't talking to anyone now, save myself. "Men die, men fight, men rend and tear and destroy. And still we endure as a people, our children happy and fruitful."  
  
"Sad words, my lady." Eomer touched my arm, "But we have won this one moment of peace, let us not spoil it with pain and bitterness."  
  
Wiping a tear from my cheek, I smiled slightly, "I thought I was the one who had this job."  
  
"I am the captain, my troops answer to me." He replied simply.  
  
"Good man." I straightened, my back protesting. "It should be dawn. Indeed, my bones tell me it is later than dawn."  
  
We spent another hour heading back to the surface, bringing our dead with us, and attempting to leave the enemy in some semblance of order, so their removal would be swift at battle's end. It was while we were exiting the last chambers, that the echoes of great horns reached us. I listened, and felt something inside me gladden.  
  
"Carefully now!" Eomer called as we started to pick up the pace, our run turning into a stumble due to the high amount of orc bodies we crawled over.  
  
I chuckled, the dawn had arrived, and with it hope. There was hope again, even in the darkest night there had been hope. And I felt ashamed at my loss of control.  
  
::Erkenbrand!:: Alayna called to me, ::He has arrived, and with him is Shadowfax. Oooh. Damn, and I look like shit.::  
  
Gandalf. I winced, wondering what he would think of my folly, but didn't dwell on it. For we had reached the outer caves, and the light of the sun shone down upon us as we exited the caverns of the Deep.  
  
With a loud cry, our troop surged forward. The walls were empty, but beyond them, the glittering of many men and pikes shone from the Dike. We ran, sheer happiness giving our weary legs the energy we needed to meet those of our friends who were left.  
  
The King sat his horse as we approached, conversing with several other people including Gandalf, Aragorn, and a man I guessed was Erkenbrand.  
  
Of the orcs and others, there was no sign, but I caught a glimpse of massive trees at the top of the valley, and pondered the fact that they felt of Fangorn.  
  
"My King!" Eomer knelt, "We have won the day."  
  
"Gimli!" Aragorn and Legolas looked pleased to see him. "We had thought you lost."  
  
The dwarf snorted, "I have slew forty-two. Though my ax be notched now, I am pleased."  
  
"Alas," Legolas replied, "For you have passed my score by one."  
  
I chuckled, watching the greetings between friends. If wistfulness touched me, I let it pass, knowing I would have times like this myself. Aragorn touched my shoulder, "Are you well, Marya?"  
  
"Yes." I smiled, "Glad I am that many have won this day."  
  
"And yet, you would have seen none perish in the attempt."  
  
I nodded, looking at the devestation the battle had left in the surrounding area. Great gashes had been ripped in the ground, and the seige engines lay overturned and rotting in the bright morning light. I remembered the fires of the night before and knew the devestation extended to more than just this spot.  
  
"Do not become bleak, my lady. It is the way of war."  
  
"It is, Aragorn. And I wish it were not." I smiled, "But we have won. What news?"  
  
"Gandalf found Erkenbrand yestereve, and convinced him we were in need, and so they marched all night to arrive here at this time."  
  
"And the trees?"  
  
"Of that, you must ask him yourself."  
  
I would. In the meantime, we gathered together, and listened to Erkenbrand and Theoden decide on the disposition of the troops. Or at least, I thought I was going to listen to them discuss it. Alayna had other plans.  
  
::You're falling asleep on your feet.::  
  
::So?::  
  
::Sleep.::  
  
::Can't. Things to do, places to go, people to see.::  
  
She snorted, and nudged me in the back. I stumbled and would have fallen had Aragorn not caught my arm. He seemed slightly alarmed as he looked at me, "My lady, you are not hurt?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Idiot."  
  
I glared at Gandalf, "Look who's talking."  
  
"I did not attempt to take on an entire army."  
  
"That has nothing to do with anything."  
  
"You're exhausted."  
  
Aragorn was watching us, bemused.  
  
I glared at Gandalf, unable to refute his comment. "So?"  
  
"You're being irrational. Wouldn't you counsel an exhausted man to lay down his cares for a time and sleep?"  
  
"Irrational?" I choked, anger filling me, "Irrational is trying to leave me behind, Gandalf."  
  
"You have only proved that I was right."  
  
My mouth dropped open, and I stared at him, utterly enraged. Seething, I couldn't see anything but him, hazed in red. And a slight greying at the edge of my vision, but that was something I'd gotten used to over the last hour. "You--"  
  
He glared at me, "You. Need. Sleep."  
  
"I am *perfectly* fine." I snapped, my teeth gritted. My jaw ached as I clenched it tight on the thousand and one things I wanted to say.  
  
::He's right.::  
  
::SHUT. UP.::  
  
Alayna shoved me in the back again, and I stumbled, falling into Gandalf. As he caught me, he touched my forehead gently, and breathed a soft word. I blinked, muzzy, trying to figure out what was going on. The world was darkening inexhorably, and I realised right before sleep took me that Gandalf and Alayna had conspired to send me down into the dark.  
  
They would pay. Later. Now I got to go dance with my nightmares. 


	12. Which Indicates a Necessity For Flight

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twelve: Which Indicates a Necessity For Flight  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I awoke in a small room in the Rock, the small fortress inside the Gate of Helm's Deep. Someone had thoughtfully covered me in a blanket, and I moved it, wincing at the shaking in my hands. I was glad I couldn't remember my dreams. From the way I was covered in sweat and my hands were shaking, it was a fair bet they hadn't been pretty.  
  
Visions of wet intestine sliding through my fingers, maggots in eye sockets and roaches spilling from the mouth of dead men skittered away as I sat up. No, they hadn't been pretty. But they hadn't been as bad as they could have been.  
  
With a yawn I stood, startled to find Gandalf had stripped me down to dragon mail before dropping me into bed. I had to be inside the keep, probably in the king's featherbed I decided in amusement. I was also barefoot, and someone had run off with my boots. Probably the aforementioned (irritating) wizard.  
  
There was a cloak at the end of the bed, and I picked it up, swirling it around myself for modesty's sake. I could have walked out stark naked and not cared. But the dragon mail *was* form-fitting, so... Best to be kind.  
  
If my bones were telling me anything right, it was nearly noon. I'd gotten about four hours of sleep. Quite enough to keep me on my feet for a good long while. At some point, I would crash, though. Crash for 16 hours or more.  
  
There was no one out in the halls, so I made my way to the stairs and from there out into the courtyard. From there I could hear and see activity all around me. Mounds of orcs were being hauled out into the area between the Dike and the forest, while patches were made in the sections that had been destroyed, and a burial detail worked at mass graves for the dead of Rohan. I spotted Gandalf and Aragorn standing with Theoden, Erkenbrand and Eomer, and went towards them, dodging the occasional cracked bit of stone.  
  
As I approached, I realised that they were burying someone. It was Hama, the guard of the King's House who had so long ago requested us to remove our weapons. I felt tears prickling my throat, and silently stood next to Gandalf as he was lowered to his final resting place.  
  
The silent ceremony ended, and Gandalf turned to me, eyes sad. "You look better."  
  
I shrugged, "So, what's the plan for the rest of today?"  
  
"I must speak with Saruman at the earliest opportunity. And then my way lies south, to Gondor."  
  
"Going to try and leave me behind this time?"  
  
He looked at me, face unreadable. "You have proved an asset to the war."  
  
"Always good to know." I plucked at the cloak I was wrapped in, "Don't suppose you know if anyone has spare clothing... Oh, and finding my sword would be nice."  
  
"I'm sure they can outfit you properly." He nodded to the Rock. "Check inside."  
  
"Right." I left them there, heading back inside in search of clothing. My search found a pair of pants slightly too large, and a vest of green. With a sigh, I pulled them on, using my rediscovered sword belt for a good purpose. My boots were actually under the bed, and I pulled them on, happy to find them wiped off if not completely clean. I could deal with a little bit of blood.  
  
A page found me adding my knives and empty sheathes. I was called for, but I stayed us a moment to ask what he knew of everything that had passed while I was asleep.  
  
It seemed that Gandalf wished to go to Isengard and have speech with Saruman--that which I knew--while the Lord of the Mark went with him to overthrow the dark wizard. It was finally decided to leave Erkenbrand and most of his troop at Helm's Deep, where they would undertake the task of cleaning up and burying the dead.  
  
There was also discussion of the trees which had appeared overnight, and into which many of the orcs had fled never to return. Plus, and here the page was definitely smug about his king, the Hillmen had all surrendered and been pardoned. I understood Theoden's reason for that--after all, better to have them think him senile and a pushover than execute them all. Tyrants aren't just feared, they're hated.  
  
The lad finally convinced me to go, and I arrived in the courtyard to find our party nearly ready to go. Gandalf shot me an irritated glance, but I merely smiled serenely and mounted Alayna. SHE was in a good mood, curveting around, flashing Shadowfax little Looks. ::Stop that.::  
  
::No.:: She swished her tail and looked up at me, ::You got to flirt.::  
  
::When?:: It must have been in my sleep.  
  
::Earlier.::  
  
::That was not flirting.::  
  
::You'd like to think so.::  
  
We set off, heading out of the Dike and into the valley. Looking at the mounds of orc bodies, I didn't envy the men left. The burying of so much flesh would take all day and most of the night.  
  
At the top of the valley, the forest started. Great, dark trees that rustled silently and watched us as we passed into the small gap between them. I found myself drifting back to the tail end of the column, and realised why as I found the man there sweating copiously.  
  
"Nice day." I didn't recognise him, and guessed him to be one of Erkenbrand's, loaned for this trip.  
  
"Sunny." He seemed to relax in my company, maybe because I was a woman, or maybe because I was a survivor of the battle of the night.  
  
I asked him where he was from, and the next thirty minutes were filled with light chitchat about Westfold and other things. By the time we were done, we had exited the unnatural forest and turned up the road east and north, heading for the Isen ford.  
  
Eventually, I left him and traveled up and down the column, speaking softly to the others. Alayna objected to the constant away from Shadowfaxness. I ignored her.  
  
Night fell as we rode, and I pondered the stars high above us, naming them all the same in a fit of humour.  
  
Several hours later, we came to the ford and discovered that the river was much depleted. I wondered at that, but didn't really care. Hunger was gnawing at me, and I was thinking wistfully of my breakfast long hours before. Coffee would have been nice, too.  
  
Someone must have heard my mutters about dying of hunger, for I found a young foot soldier soon at my stirrup, a large portion of waybread in his hand and some strips of dried meat. I wolfed them down, happy to not care what type of meat it was, and felt almost refreshed. "My thanks, lad."  
  
He was staring at my hair in wonder, "You really are a rainbow." Then he blushed, and stammered an apology.  
  
"No worries, lad." I smiled, "You're one of Erkenbrand's, yes?"  
  
"Yes." He ducked, "They sent me here to give me something to do, I expect. I turned green at the bodies."  
  
"No sin in finding death unattractive. I have a tendency to get sick myself."  
  
"But you're a great warrior."  
  
I was amused, "That's what they tell me."  
  
"The Lady Rainbow, Green Rider of the Rohirrim." He said, eyes shining.  
  
Great. Hero worship. "Er, not of the Rohirrim. But a friend, yes."  
  
Ahead of us, there was a cry, and I left my new friend to ride to the forefront. There I found my friends and Theoden gathered around a large mound. Gandalf announced that it was the final resting place of those who had fallen in defense of the ford, and I found out that part of his day had been spent finding men to build this, and to send them on to Edoras to guard the King's house.  
  
I felt as if I had been hit, in a way. I had spent the day before in desperate battle and skirmish, hoping to keep the enemy from striking those who had no place for defense, and he had spent it in peace.  
  
::I knew I liked that wizard.:: Alayna said softly as we continued on, in search of a place to camp for the night, since it had been long since many had slept.  
  
--  
  
Once settled down for the night, I looked at the stars high overhead and pondered the twists of Fate. If I did one thing, people died. If I did another, people still died. I couldn't win. For a moment, I let down mental barriers, and looked at the time stream that wrapped around this small world.  
  
It was silver and gold, with hints of black leaking in here and there. In the past, I found the knot that was the Balrog, and studied it for a time. I'd been right. If I'd interfered in any way... but I had. And Gandalf died. Sure, I brought him back, but at what cost?  
  
Towards the future were more knots of darkness. Places where interference would lead to worse than death. Soulless beings crept through the timelines there, manifesting as small mice that scurried into my head and rooted around in search of something to sup on. They were out of luck, really.  
  
I don't think I have a soul.  
  
After the thousandth time you've killed someone in cold blood, you stop even considering that you might have one. Not that it bothers me. Much. Besides, I knew the night I killed three innocent children that my life was forever sealed.  
  
I wasn't allowed to die because no one would have me in their afterlife.  
  
Therefore, I have no soul.  
  
Everything I do is for nothing, over a long extended period of pain and heartache. Nothing wins in the end, because apathy triumphs.  
  
Into these suddenly dark thoughts impinged Gandalf, his robes softly moving across the grass.  
  
We had avoided each other for the most part. I was bittersweet about that, but understanding. It sort of looks bad if the wizard is hanging all over a woman. Except I hated giving up what small comfort there was in us.  
  
"Dark thoughts."  
  
I shrugged, not bothering to sit up as he knelt next to me. "They always are."  
  
He stroked my cheek with his hand and sighed, "I wish I had hope."  
  
The imp of the perverse caught me, and I wriggled my eyebrows at him, "There's one way to give me hope..."  
  
For a moment he seemed to seriously consider the idea, then he sighed, "There is sadly not enough time for what I would do to you."  
  
"Ah, damn." I sat up, and hugged him. "Well, at least we can watch the stars together."  
  
"Not even that," he replied softly as sound echoed to us from far away to the north. Isengard was falling.  
  
"Gandalf!" Someone cried, "Save us!"  
  
"A wizard's work is never done." He muttered.  
  
I caught his chin and kissed him, hard. He tasted of ale and cheese, and I sighed, almost hungry again for food. "No, it isn't."  
  
He stood, then, and left to find the others leading our party. From the direction of Isengard came more sounds. Crashes and bangs, and a deep whooshing as of a burst dam, the river running wild over rocks and bank alike.  
  
One of the foot soldiers came to me as I knelt there. "Lady Rainbow?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What does it mean?" He was scared, and I recognised the young lad from earlier.  
  
I stood, sighing at the prospect of a night of no sleep. "I'm not sure. But it isn't something that's bad." I squinted towards the sounds, "In fact, I think it's very good for us."  
  
He gulped, then straightened, "My captain said I was to stay with you, if that was all right."  
  
"It's fine." I smiled, my teeth flashing in the darkness, "Just don't be offended if I leave you with this troop to scout."  
  
"Isengard is burning."  
  
"Yes." I stared at the fires which showed above the tree line now. "I wonder...."  
  
High in the sky, something chittered. The sound went through me, and I grabbed the kid's arm and knelt, dragging him down with me.  
  
"Wh--"  
  
"Sshh."  
  
Whatever was up there sent a dark dread through the air as it flew, and I recognised the signature of the black riders that had so long ago been tumbled into water at the gates of Rivendell. The Nazgul, Elrond had called them. Leftover wraiths bound to their Dark Lord by the rings he forged them.  
  
The thing passed over completely, finally, and I suspected it might have 'seen' us, in its own way. But it flew on to Isengard without stooping towards us, and left in its wake a rising mist.  
  
What it would tell its master, I didn't know. I didn't care at the moment, though, since I had my hands full suddenly with almost hysterical troops.  
  
It might seem odd, but even battle-hardened men get a bit iffy when something like a Nazgul flies over them. My words of comfort brought them back from that terror, though. And shame took its place. Shame I quickly attempted to dissipate with encouraging words about battle.  
  
Once that tide was stemmed, I found the young soldier still in my company, and asked his name.  
  
"Vin, ma'am."  
  
"Well, Vin, since we're going to be companions for the moment, you can just call me Marya."  
  
He blinked, then straightened even more (if that were possible), "Oh, no, ma'am. I could never."  
  
"All right. Um." I looked about me at the still-restless camp. "Why don't we try to sleep then?"  
  
I needed sleep, or something approaching it. Even nightmare-ridden naps would be better than a night spent awake. Probably.  
  
--  
  
In the early morning light, we mounted up and continued towards Isengard. I sensed that a disquiet had spread among the army, and worried that we might have trouble if there was anything left to fight once we got there.  
  
About midday, we could see the circle of stone, with the tower of Orthanc rising above them like some ornately carved finger. We slowed as we approached, more and more reluctant to face whatever peril that stone fortress held.  
  
It wasn't long before we reached the gates and found them closed. There were two small men guarding the entry-way, both seeming completely relaxed; one blew smoke rings from his pipe while the other dozed in the sun. I recognised Merry and Pippin a moment before Merry spoke up welcoming Theoden in the name of the Ents.  
  
Part of me was glad to see them, not knowing what peril they had fallen into had worried me, but I knew they had stayed alive. Oddly, another part was resentful, and I couldn't pinpoint why at first.  
  
The group parted, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and I staying to feast upon what food the hobbits could find us. The rest made their way around Isengard to discuss matters with Treebeard. Except for two guards left at the gate.  
  
It was as we munched on our food that I finally figured out my feeling of resentment. These were all people who would have an effect on the outcome of this world. And I was merely supposed to remain in the background and basically do nothing. It went against the grain of my nature, that. I needed to do things or I was useless, unneeded.  
  
Which was ridiculous, really. After all, hadn't I thought before about the uselessness of existence?  
  
But maybe there was nothing useful in life. Weighty matters, which had no impact on anything.  
  
Pippin and Merry explained how they had escaped from the orcs just before Eomer and the Riders of Rohan had destroyed the band. I listened in approval as they met up with Treebeard, helping him to rouse the Ents to fight against Saruman.  
  
The Ents were a tree-people, and they tended herds of trees. It sounded very lovely and peaceful, really. Saruman had been burning their trees and other trees and so the Ents were angered. It took a while for them to become angry enough to decide that he needed to be taken down a peg or two. But they did, and that's what the sounds in the night had been.  
  
Crafty people, I'll give them that. They dammed up the river to the north of Isengard, then flooded the place. The flood put out his hellfires and flooded the lower chambers of horror that he had constructed. Basically, we didn't have to do anything but come in and tell him he was defeated.  
  
I was down with that.  
  
The conversation flowed around me, with bits and pieces of my journey with Gandalf tossed out from time to time. It was a very congenial moment, and I was hoping it would last forever. No more battles to attend, no more people to save. Just a few friends eating good food--or, sort of good food--and chatting companionably.  
  
I was interested to hear that Gandalf had requested the forest that had appeared around Helm's Deep. It made an odd sort of sense, of course, and I was glad I hadn't needed to do any major spellcasting to rid us of the damned orcs.  
  
Might've attracted Sauron's attention, and that would be bad, this early in the game.  
  
Time in the sun came to an end, as the others became restless to see what went on in Isengard. And so we went into that place, a large valley surrounded by a circle of stone, with the tooth of Orthanc in the center. I pondered it for a moment, then walked after them.  
  
As we approached the tower, I noted that most of the column were there along with a creature I assumed had to be Treebeard. He was a very tall tree, really, rather majestic as he surveyed our approach.  
  
"Ho, Gandalf." Pippin called, "You were not thinking of speaking to Saruman without us?"  
  
"Hrrm. Hroom. Master Pippin, you are so hasty." The tree said.  
  
I chuckled, "You find most hobbits thus, I should think."  
  
He blinked at me, then seemed to nod, "You are Luthien. Hruum. Glad I am to make your acquaintance."  
  
I blinked back, surprised he knew of me. "Yes. Thank you."  
  
We stopped talking then, as Gandalf seemed to decide it was time to confront Saruman. After a soft warning to beware of the power of the old wizard's voice, he dismounted and started up the stairs. Theoden, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas followed him. I glanced at Pippin and grinned, "Race you."  
  
Merry followed our swift feet, and we all stood upon the landing in front of massive doors in moments.  
  
It wasn't Saruman who eventually answered Gandalf's call. With a start, I recognised Grima Wormtongue, and cursed that I hadn't killed him when I had the chance. He was sent for his master, who arrived in due course.  
  
"Well?" Said a voice that should have been evil and horrid, but was rather beautiful. I understood, then, Gandalf's warning about the voice. "Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?"  
  
As if his alliance with Mordor, and planned destruction of Rohan were nothing. Right. I sensed the soldiers behind me restlessly fidget, and realised they were answering the power of that voice.  
  
Irritating, really.  
  
Above us, Saruman poked his head out the window, and I smirked. He still seemed to have grass in his hair from my dumping in the forest. Of course, it might have been an illusion. There was a resemblance to Gandalf, but not one I would have believed. I knew Gandalf's body too well.  
  
For a time, I let the spell of the voice weave its subtle magic. Then I reached out and touched it, turning it as if turning the knob on a stereo, and sending it up several octaves. For a moment the wizard continued talking, his voice a high screech which hurt the ears. Then he silenced, looking startled.  
  
"Much better." I announced. "That was beginning to grate, y'know. I mean, really, Saruman, babe. Voice tricks? How passe. Personally, I would have gone with the 'escaping through a tunnel' option, but then, you might still've been caught." I studied his rapidly purpling countenance, "And, dude. That is SO not your colour."  
  
The others were staring at me as if I'd grown another head. I shrugged and smiled, "Sorry. Grandstanding was never my forte. Are we done here?"  
  
I sensed that I had ruined any plans for people to consider me sane, and sighed. "Look. This isn't going to get us anywhere. Saruman isn't on our side, he's not going to regret what he's done, he won't tell us anything--" I paused, considering, "Well... Unless I used some of my vast knowledge of torture on him, he won't. But that's beside the point. He will try to sow discord and dissent among each and every one of us."  
  
Having successfully ruined what would have been a long and boring conversation, I turned away, satisfied.  
  
Above us, Saruman gave a snarl and stalked away from the window.  
  
Moments later, something came flying out of the window. It was round, and I recognised it as a palantir from Gandalf's descriptions. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't think what.  
  
As the palantir sailed down towards Gandalf, I suddenly realised that I wasn't allowed to touch it. I could move it, but actually picking it up would change the destinies of many things. With precision, I moved its aim so it bypassed my lover and bounced down the steps of the tower. Those around me started as if they hadn't seen it coming, Gandalf shot me an odd look, but I ignored it.  
  
Pippin dashed after the ball of leaded glass, intent on capturing it, probably in some way hoping to be helpful. I felt sick as I watched him touch it, and flashes of a future I was striving against slithered through my mind.  
  
Death and destruction echoed through the world as Sauron won, his ring wrapped around his finger where it belonged. We had lost.  
  
I shook my head, and watched Gandalf take the palantir from Pippin--careful to not actually touch it with anything other than his cloak--and wondered at his reasons for keeping it. It occurred to me that I was probably not going to sleep tonight.  
  
To my relief, I was wrong. We had camped away from Isengard, heading back towards Edoras and the muster of the troops of Rohan. And I was asleep within moments of lying down. I found myself dreaming of nothing in the starlit night, until a cry echoed across the camp. With haste I was on my feet and running towards the sound. I came upon Pippin and Gandalf, the palantir between them for a moment before Gandalf hid it from the view of our camp.  
  
I pondered that as the others gathered. A moment later, Gandalf was calling for Shadowfax and telling Theoden to head for Dunharrow for the mustering.  
  
Alayna appeared at my side as he mounted, and I pulled myself into the saddle, ignoring Gandalf's glare as he pulled Pippin up in front of him.  
  
"We shall ride for Edoras and turn aside the muster, then head for Minas Tirith. Much evil may be averted." Gandalf told Aragorn. He handed him the recovered palantir, and I shivered, "Watch this, and do not look into it."  
  
I found Vin at my side, and smiled, "Take care of yourself, kid. I'll see you at Minas Tirith."  
  
"Yes, my lady." He tried to smile, and couldn't, and I saw the fear in his eyes as he looked around himself. "I would wish for you to stay, yet..."  
  
"My usefulness is in the White City," I said softly. I could feel the pull of it now, the sense that a new pathway had opened into the future of this world. "We shall meet again during battle. Do not falter for an instant!"  
  
Gandalf glanced at me, then signaled Shadowfax, and we were off. I shot a wave to Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Aragorn, then they were swallowed up into the night as we fled into the coming darkness.  
  
- 


	13. But Why Is The Rum Gone?

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Thirteen: But *Why* Is The Rum Gone?  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
Having strapped myself into the saddle, I slept through most of the ride to Edoras, and much of the stop itself. Alayna was good at keeping her gait even so I didn't fall off. Exhaustion was my defining characteristic, always. Gandalf and Pippin didn't seem to notice my silence for which I was grateful. The sleep did me some good.  
  
I awoke at some point during the journey down through the grasslands and mountains to Minas Tirith. We crossed leagues and leagues of nothing worth noting. The third night since we had left the camp, we entered into Gondor, and Pippin attracted Gandalf's attention to fires in the distance. "Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another!"  
  
For answer, Gandalf cried to Shadowfax, "On, Shadowfax! We must hasten! Time is short--the beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid. For there is Amon Din, and flame on Eilenach; and there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, and the Halifirien on the borders of Rohan."  
  
::Someone approaches.::  
  
Shadowfax must have heard them, too, for he slowed instead of speeding as Gandalf wished. Presently there came the sound of hoofbeats in the darkness, and shortly three riders appeared like ghosts and vanished into the West.  
  
Heading for Edoras, no doubt. I was suddenly glad that the muster had been sounded so long ago. The army of Rohan would reach us in the nick of time, like it should. Probably.  
  
We took off, then, faster than before. In the darkness, I heard Gandalf explaining various customs for lighting the watchfires, but suddenly felt too tired to listen. I restrapped myself into the saddle, and dozed off, Alayna adjusting her gait to keep me from falling again. Not that I needed the help, but it was kind of her.  
  
Alayna later told me some rather fascinating things, like that there had been seven palantirs. They had been used for communication between the outposts and towers of Gondor. Until Mordor tainted them. It didn't surprise me, really.  
  
Before dawn, we made the gates of Rammas Echor. A huge wall surrounded the fertile valley at the base of the City of Guard. I inspected it while Gandalf argued with the gate guards about letting both I and Pippin in. The young Hobbit awoke and had words of his own with the men of Gondor.  
  
The wall extended for leagues, until it was lost in the mists, and I wondered how quickly it would fall when the armies of Mordor crested it.  
  
The thought made me shiver, and I glanced over at Gandalf to see if he needed help or not.  
  
I was just in time to find him being let in with Pippin. I, apparently, was another matter, and I shot him a glare before giving the men of Gondor my most regal Look. "I am Marya Luthien, friend to the Elves, and survivor of the battle of Helm's Deep. I'm here to help keep your damned country together."  
  
"Mithrandir we know, and have allowed passage, along with his strange Halfling companion," the leader said, "But we cannot allow you to roam free amongst our lands."  
  
"I've made it this far with Gandalf, why the sudden objections?"  
  
"The orders are that no one without the proper--"  
  
"Oh, fuck your orders," I snapped rudely, "Your country is about to become besieged, and you're turning away honest help. Y'know, sometimes I wonder why I bother."  
  
Silence fell for a moment, as they seemed to be taken aback at my cavalier attitude, then the leader half-smiled, "The Lady is plain-speaking."  
  
"Helps cut down on the bullshit."  
  
He glanced at Gandalf, who seemed to be amused at this entire exchange, then shrugged, "On my head be it. My lady, you are allowed access to the fields of the Pelennor, and the White City."  
  
"My thanks." I bowed to him, then Alayna took us into the gate and beyond, and I saw the grasslands and fertile fields stretched out in the starlight. I understood, then, their caution. But it struck me that all their caution would be in vain should Mordor breach those walls. And they would. I shivered again, and nodded to Gandalf.  
  
He and Shadowfax cantered away, Alayna following easily.  
  
::I'm surprised neither of you appear exhausted.::  
  
::I'm sleeping for a week when we get to that damned city.:: She replied shortly.  
  
::What, no boinking the Lord of the Horses?::  
  
She hopped slightly, jarring every bone in my body and nearly causing me to bite my tongue. ::Tetchy today, aren't we.::  
  
::Worried, you twit.::  
  
::About the battle?::  
  
::No, about whether your hair is going to fall out.::  
  
That hurt. My cap of rainbow coloured curls were only now shiny and luxurious after their encounter with the lightning bolt. ::Bitch.::  
  
She was silent for a moment, then seemed to relent slightly, ::We're almost there.::  
  
The sun was beginning to rise, gilding the tops of the city in watery gold. It was a lovely effect, and it filled me with dread to know how close the coming battles were. It was almost enough to make me turn tail and run back past the gates of the Pelennor, all the way to Lorien. But it would never stay safe. Sauron had to be destroyed.  
  
::Even at the cost of our lives.:: Alayna said softly.  
  
::Yes.::  
  
--  
  
Minas Tirith was your typical walled medieval-type city. The first gate was parallel with only the top one. But there were five in between it, in various portions of the city. It took us nearly an hour to reach that top gate, and be ushered into the presence of the Steward of the City. Before that, I noted various architectural bits, and wondered how soon breakfast might be.  
  
Lord Denethor was probably not going to be pleased to have us show up on his doorstep. *I* certainly wouldn't be. But that wasn't my problem.  
  
We were expected, of course. The horses were taken from us at the base of a courtyard, and we crossed it silently. I studied the fountain and its occupant--a drooping dead tree that might once have been magnificent. The sense of decay I caught from it troubled me, but I couldn't stop to ask Gandalf about it.  
  
The tower above us was still gleaming in the morning light, and I wondered how long that would last as we entered the door into the Great Hall. We passed down a corridor, and I overheard Gandalf warning Pippin about his words to Denethor, as he wasn't a kindly man as Theoden had been. I had long guessed that, just from the sense of the city, but it was good to know I'd been right. I noticed my lover didn't warn me, but maybe he guessed me capable of holding my own tongue.  
  
He'd have been half-right, but I suddenly sensed a need to play the stupid maiden, and wondered at the instinct as we halted before a door of polished metal.  
  
It wouldn't be hard to pull off, I just had to adopt a slightly glazed look, and remain silent as a lamb through the ensuing discussion. And escape when Pippin did, hopefully.  
  
Gandalf knocked on the door, and it opened silently. A long arched hallway stretched between us and the high-perched throne. No one sat in that exalted chair, and at the base of the stairs up to the dais sat a smaller chair, with an old man in it. His eyes, even from this distance, were clear and knowing, and I hoped Gandalf's warnings had not fallen on deaf ears.  
  
Stone-faced pillars watched us walk towards him, each a masterful carving of what were probably ancient kings of this land. I didn't care, they were sort of... boring. And with the war coming, they might fall as easily as butter melts into a fire.  
  
We stopped three paces from him, and I let Gandalf take the lead. The man hadn't glanced up save that first look when we entered. Silence lasted for a moment, then Gandalf proclaimed, "Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour."  
  
Denethor looked up and I sensed that he was not at all taken in with Gandalf's Grand Gesture. He spoke a bit, sounding like Theoden before the demise of Wormtongue, proclaiming Gandalf Mithrandir, and bearer of Bad Tidings.  
  
I let it go, beginning to wonder if my life had been as bad as I'd thought. I certainly hadn't always been hailed as the Evil Messenger.  
  
The Steward figured out that Pippin had been with his son at his death, and began quizzing him deeply on it. Apparently, the Horn of Gondor had washed up, slashed in twain. I studied the piece of history as it lay in the man's lap, and concluded that the elves had sent it. The faint tracery of elven magic that lay on the horn was unmistakable, and I wondered why Galadriel had felt the need to meddle.  
  
And then Pippin startled me from my reverie, offering his service to the Steward of Gondor, as payment towards the debt of Boromir dying to save his life. I felt something shiver in me, and hoped he wouldn't regret his impetuous offer.  
  
Something in Denethor's eyes softened for a moment as he looked at the defiant Hobbit. Then he swore the hobbit to his service, and commanded him to speak all of his tale. Wine and food were called for, and in short order, I was filling my happy belly with a few sweet meats, washed down with a very fine vintage if I was any judge. And, since I'd had over a thousand yeas of judging, I was very good at it.  
  
For a time, Denethor questioned the hobbit on his journeys with Boromir. He seemed vastly interested in Pippin's mentions of Strider, but didn't press him. Eventually, he and Gandalf seemed to fall into an argument concerning the King returning to Gondor. Something Denethor didn't want.  
  
Gandalf got in a last comment as we were led out to our rooms, my presence almost totally unnoticed by the Steward. As far as I was concerned, this was all to the good. I didn't like the sense of decay I felt, and I liked the man's deviousness even less.  
  
I worried about Pippin, too, but said nothing as we were led to our rooms.  
  
The two of them talked together, and I stayed out of it, feeling suddenly wearier than ever. I reached out for Alayna, needing the comfort of her mind touching mine as I stared out the small window of our room.  
  
::What?::  
  
::I... I think I'm going to dislike the next several days.::  
  
::Yeah.:: She was silent for a moment, then sent a mental hug. ::Not enough sex getting you down?::  
  
::Fuck off.:: I slammed the link between us shut, and turned to find that Gandalf had left us. "Gone to see Denethor again, has he?"  
  
Pippin gave a start, and blinked at me, "I had forgotten you were here."  
  
"It's a useful trick." I went to him and dropped to one knee, catching him in a hug. "I hesitate to sound silly, but... be careful in this new role, my friend." I released him and stood, feeling restlessness touch me. "I don't suppose you'd like to go for a walk?"  
  
A silver-toned bell echoed through the room three times, and I blinked.  
  
"They'd call it nine o'clock in the Shire."  
  
"Three hours after sunrise?"  
  
"Indeed." He tilted his head and looked at me, "Gandalf bade me look in on Shadowfax."  
  
"Good plan."  
  
A man was approaching our door as we stepped out, and I slid into shadow, watching as he greeted Pippin. I hated my sudden status of non-person, and reached out to retrieve from the man's mind the proper 'pass words' he'd mentioned. They were fairly mundane, and I wondered if I would have guessed them anyway.  
  
Pippin shot me a look, and I shook my head, gesturing him to leave me. I could fend for myself, after all. And I didn't want to look in on Alayna until she apologised.  
  
It was unbearably childish of me, of course. Especially since she couldn't apologise with my shields closed to her. But it was the mood I felt to be in; and I was probably hungry.  
  
With that thought in mind, I wandered down into the city. The gate guards either noticed me and accepted my passwords, or didn't notice me and let me pass without comment. I walked to the bottom, and studied the plain outside of it, pondering the strategies we'd need for defense. I sensed that the city was prepared for some sort of assault, but probably not for all-out war. That needed to be changed.  
  
I went along the wall, reading it for structural integrity and chatting with the soldiers I encountered. As a whole they were mildly suspicious of me, but accepting that I was there to help. Some even agreed with my comments on which sections of wall needed more or less defense.  
  
Once I'd learned the first tier, I moved to the second, repeating my earlier actions. The guards here were more relaxed, though still suspicious of this outland woman who dared to tell them their business.  
  
And so I passed the morning, acquainting myself with the city's defenses and soldiers, earning a few nods of trust from one or two captains, and a sense of loyalty from the more common foot soldiers. It was enough that I would be able to use them to bolster our defenses when the time came. They might answer to me if needed.  
  
Towards midday, I found myself starving, and headed for the kitchens by following my innate sense of direction--and my nose.  
  
The kitchen staff seemed startled to see me, but let me claim a corner and munch on a lovely soup and some toasted bread with cheese. It was nicely filling, and I felt revived after finishing it with a glass of very thick ale. Home-brewed stuff that probably very few outside the staff drank.  
  
It reminded me of Guinness, and I thought wistfully of a steaming cup of black coffee.  
  
I went back out into the streets, this time finding the Houses of Healing, where the sick and injured were tended. I made sure they were gearing up for the many casualties we were certain to have, then left before the old matron could collar me and fill my head with Old Lore. I didn't have time for it, as interesting as it might have been.  
  
Hours later, I sensed something from the front gates and hastened my way down through the city, taking a few shortcuts by hopping over fences and traversing roofs. By the time I reached the ground level, a large group of men had arrived. About 200 from Lossarnach, according to the guard I talked to. It was nice, but nowhere near as many as we'd need. I didn't say this, but others did.  
  
I spotted Pippin and made my way to him, he introduced me to the young boy with him, Bergil, son of Beregond, Pippin's comrade in the City Guard. We chatted amiably for a time, then supper was called and the three of us separated as we made our way back up to the seventh tier.  
  
After supper, Pippin settled into his bed and slept. I spent a long time perched cross-legged on the second bed in the room, waiting for Gandalf to return. Towards midnight, he slipped in, silent and weary looking. To my eyes he needed more sleep than he would get.  
  
He didn't seem to notice me at first, pacing to and fro in a sort of exhausted frustration. "When will Faramir return?" I heard him mumble over and over.  
  
I finally could bear it no longer, and interrupted him softly, "I don't know."  
  
With a start, he turned to me. "Marya."  
  
"Forgotten I'd followed you like a lost puppy dog, had you?"  
  
He pondered his words carefully, then half-smiled, "You worked hard to make yourself unnoticeable, I'm afraid."  
  
I sighed, unable to keep up the bantering, "The city is not going to survive unless Rohan arrives in time."  
  
"They should."  
  
"Delay is inevitable in situations like this," I pointed out with asperity.  
  
"Such cynicism."  
  
"My dreams have been dark." I looked away from his questioning look, "Much will happen that I cannot affect. And what I can..."  
  
He came to me, and we held each other for a time in silence.  
  
Pippin woke up and interrupted us, pulling Gandalf away, and chatting softly. I didn't mind, but I knew that all three of us needed sleep if I had to pull tricks to get the wizard into bed, I would.  
  
I waited until the hobbit was asleep again, then stood and made my way to Gandalf. He stood looking out into the dark, his posture weary. "Come to bed."  
  
"Sleep is not for me."  
  
"Right." I snorted and wrapped my arms around him from behind, leaning into his back as he tensed. "I'm not planning on anything more strenuous than snuggling while I sleep, O Great Wizard."  
  
"I doubt it would be comfortable."  
  
"You think too much."  
  
I felt him shift, almost but not quite chuckling as he turned in my arms to look at me, "You're so very wise."  
  
"I wasn't gonna say it first."  
  
He snorted and touched his forehead to mine. "You shall sleep, then. I shall merely watch the wonderful woman I have found."  
  
"Watch?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You look very innocent when you sleep."  
  
"An impression that goes away milliseconds after I awaken, I imagine."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
We stood there for a bit, just holding each other. Until I sighed. "C'mon, Gandalf. Let's go to bed so I can get a good night's sleep."  
  
Sex was not too close in my head. There was too much that would have to be done in the next several days for me to want to waste energy on sex. It was almost sad, though.  
  
::Celibacy never suited you.::  
  
::Yeah, well... Live fast, die hard, resurrect in irritation.::  
  
I curled up, Gandalf next to me as I sort of octopussed around him, pulling the blanket over both of us. For a moment I was awake, and then I wasn't, happily asleep and snuggled.  
  
--  
  
Dead men followed me as I walked the paths of the night. Cold and icy fingers occasionally glided along my skin, sending me into shivering fits. I wanted to run, to leave this place of unearthly dread. Yet I could not, for my purpose was to claim these dead men as my own, to bring them into battle and fight the unearthly evils of Sauron.  
  
People, alive people, followed me, and I sensed that they were afraid, yet not. They would follow me to their graves and beyond, and I suddenly sensed that I wasn't me. I was someone else, someone I shouldn't have been.  
  
With a start, I realised I was a passenger inside Aragorn's head. A silent observer as he walked the Paths of the Dead. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did. In some ways, I didn't care.  
  
But I shouldn't have been there, watching as the darkness slowly stole the breaths from his people.  
  
I guessed, suddenly, that I was viewing an echo of something that had occurred as we rode to Minas Tirith. I hoped it had ended well.  
  
Without warning, I was dragged from my perch. The darkness turned into brightness, and I found myself standing on top of a tower in the middle of a desert.  
  
Mordor. The evil that touched the land thrummed in my veins, stealing my breath. With a wrench, I threw myself out of the dream, and found myself panting on all fours, the floorboards cool under my fingertips.  
  
Gandalf looked over the edge of the mattress at me, concern in his face.  
  
I moved onto my knees, straightening my back until it popped several times. "Nightmare."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Instead, he moved back from the edge, opening up the snuggly warm space I had vacated.  
  
With a sigh, I crawled back in, then blinked. I felt rather well-rested, as if it should be morning. But the lack of light from the window proved that darkness still held sway outside.  
  
"It's morning, isn't it." I whispered, not really wanting to know.  
  
"The sun has not yet appeared," He replied cryptically.  
  
"Damn." I sat up, and then stood. My body felt more rested than it had in a while, and I wondered if Gandalf had used a spell to add extra sleep to our time. It didn't matter, really. I peered out the window, inspecting the twilight that was being enforced from Mordor. The spell lines slunk around, a sticky green-grey. For a moment, I pondered breaking it, then realised it would be useless. I couldn't spend the day constantly breaking spells Sauron sent. And this one wasn't very bad.  
  
I turned to Gandalf, who was still sitting in bed, "I should go. Reassure the guards and stuff."  
  
He looked sardonically at me, "Reassure seasoned men?"  
  
"Even seasoned men are unsettled by such as this." I pointed over my shoulder. "I'll have breakfast sent up for the two of you."  
  
He stood, then, and came towards me, eyes suddenly dark with worry. "You will eat as well?"  
  
"Yes." I caught his face in my hands and kissed him gently, "I shall see you later. Promise."  
  
-- 


	14. Preparing For The Worst While Hoping Tha...

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Fourteen: Preparing For The Worst While Hoping That Chocolate is the Grand Prize  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I spent the 'morning' wandering the walls, chatting with the various guards and soldiers I met. Most were mildly wary of me, even those I'd talked to the day before. I found out why at lunch when one of them mentioned that he was surprised a great sorceress like myself hadn't dispelled the twilight.  
  
"Great sorceress?" I blinked.  
  
"There has been talk that you are one," the man shrugged, "It seems odd that you would not use the power to protect the city from twilight."  
  
"I'm more of a swords-woman than I am a sorceress," I said calmly. "And what would you have me do once I had dispelled the twilight? Dispell the next thing the Dark Lord sends against us? Be thankful this one is merely unsettling. I suspect he would begin throwing lethality at us were I to start striving against him."  
  
"Spoken like a true wizard."  
  
I glanced at Gandalf, who had appeared silently, and shrugged, "'Tis merely the truth."  
  
Baltar shrugged at the both of us, "If you'll excuse me, I should get back to my post."  
  
We let him go, then sat, munching food in companionable silence. Too soon, Gandalf leaned over and kissed me, then left. I sighed. This was ridiculous, really. I could be trailing after him, except it just wasn't my style. At least we slept in the same bed at night.  
  
Sieges suck.  
  
It was nearly evening, and I was hovering around the third tier, chatting with one of the few women left in the City. Many had been evacuated down south to the coastal areas, the children gone with them. I understood the need.  
  
Irina was rebellious, having hidden in a sewer until the boats had left, and thus escaping the road to safety. Or was that the river? Either way, she had continued living in the city, working to help make food for the troops, or keep them company--not carnally, despite what was said about her.  
  
From the first tier, a cry went up, and I turned towards it, sensing that I was going to be needed.  
  
A sense of dread touched me, and I realised that the Nazgul had arrived out in the Pelennor. ::Alayna!::  
  
::On my way. With Shadowfax and G.::  
  
I didn't wait for her, but made quick excuses to Irina and then ran down, bypassing the gates by hopping the fences and walls I'd used the day before. Alayna and Gandalf finally caught up with me as I neared the first gate. I hopped into the saddle, and we continued, dashing out into the green fields.  
  
Ahead of us a small column of foot hastened towards the gates and safety. Above them wheeled a Nazgul on its winged steed. It stooped, occasionally, sending them crouching to the ground. Gandalf and Shadowfax pulled ahead of us, angling towards the flying thing. I let him go, concentrating on getting to the foot soldiers, my hair rustling in the wind of our passing. I neared them and began creating witchlights, tossing them into the air above, sensing that light would give them heart more than words.  
  
I was right, for they rallied, coming towards the gate in a more ordered fashion. Some carried wounded comrades, and I hopped out of the saddle, quickly helping with the burden of one hulking man. We got him onto Alayna's back, then another, and headed towards the gates.  
  
Gandalf dealt with the Nazgul handily, I rather thought, sensing his very thrifty and clean use of a lightning spell which sent the thing wheeling off in anger and rage.  
  
None of us cared, moving quickly as we could towards the safety of the City.  
  
A mounted man met Gandalf, and they waited for the rest of us. We all filed through the gates, and I sensed a horrible exhaustion from the men around me, and worried that they might not make it to their beds.  
  
Luckily, the man in green who had met Gandalf seemed to be their focal point. And as he stayed riding, they stayed moving.  
  
I stayed with the wounded, getting us up to the Houses of Healing as quickly as we could. Once there, I found myself drafted, and ruefully helped settle those who were wounded the worst. I didn't have the time to do more than wreath low-level healing spells, but they would all be back on their feet within the week.  
  
We lost one of the men, the big burly one. He'd taken a sword in the gut, and the wielder had twisted it as it was removed. I could barely make heads or tails of which bits of intestine went where, though I tried, burying my hands inside of him as I tried to save him.  
  
He died an hour afterwards, the damage too extensive for even I to fix. Without going into a deep healing trance--and I knew that wasn't an option right now. Not with things bound to get worse, and Sauron possibly winning.  
  
Once clean, I headed back to our lodgings, weary and dispirited. I met no one along the way, and fell into the bed I'd shared with Gandalf the night before as soon as I got there.  
  
--  
  
Gandalf woke me when he crawled into bed, and I wordlessly wrapped my arms around him before falling back into sleep, my head nestled under his chin.  
  
In my dreams, I saw various things, including a meeting of Gandalf, Pippin, Denethor, and the young man who had been on the horse. I learned his name was Faramir, and I realised that he was the one I had heard the soldiers discussing. A great leader, more respected than Boromir. And he didn't give me the sense of unease that Boromir had.  
  
Denethor hated him. I felt a pang of sadness coupled with banked wrath at his treatment of the young man. There was much good he would do, if allowed reign. And much evil exuded from the Steward of Minas Tirith. I wondered at it.  
  
They talked of many things, Gandalf questioning the lad on his recent travels in Ithilien. It was then I learned that Faramir had met with Frodo and Sam, and I felt glad to know that such had occurred.  
  
Flitting away from the meeting, I found myself in a dank land, sand under my feet. It dribbled up between my toes, dry and cold. I shivered as the wind bit into me. Lifeless and stale, it tried to choke me.  
  
There was blood on my hands.  
  
Deep red blood coating my hands and arms, caught under my nails and in my cuticles. I couldn't wash it off, I couldn't get rid of it.  
  
It wouldn't ever go, it just fed and fed and fed. And I blinked.  
  
The land was hungry for blood. It slithered beneath my feet the sand sliding up my legs, wrapping around my torso as a lover.  
  
I realised in horror it meant to kill me and began to fight it, desperate to free myself, to breathe.  
  
Nothing worked and I lost my sight and the stale air in an instant as a mask of sand swallowed me whole.  
  
--  
  
The day dawned a mud brown, and my instincts told me it was going to be a long day with nothing to do--except recover from my dream. Of course, I could help prepare for wounded at the Houses of Healing. I might get to pick special herbs, or mix medicines. Oh, hell, I might even get to roll bandages.  
  
Joy. I hate sieges.  
  
Gandalf hadn't yet awakened, and I snuggled closer, wondering if he had deliberately sent me the dream of the Tower meeting. It was so nice and quiet in the still air, that I pondered going back to sleep.  
  
Sadly, he sighed about a minute before I was fully dozing. "You let me sleep in."  
  
"Good morning, my love." I shifted to kiss him on the nose, "I was unaware I was an alarm clock."  
  
"You do have alarming tendencies."  
  
"Yes." I kissed his chin and then echoed his sigh. "Time to get up and face another day of preparation, boredom, and reassurance."  
  
His arms tightened around me for a moment, then released me. "First, you shall join the council that Denethor has called with his allies."  
  
I slid from the bed and began strapping on my knives. "Really? Was I invited?"  
  
"No. You shall come as my guest."  
  
"Oooo. Strategy in the morning is almost as good as sex."  
  
"Is it?" Pippin was peering at us, half awake.  
  
"No." My shirt was hanging over a chair, and I picked it up and shook it out before pulling it on. I glanced at Gandalf to find him still in bed. "Up, you old wizard."  
  
He chuckled and removed himself reluctantly from beneath the snuggly warm blankets.  
  
Several minutes later, we dined on a quick breakfast. It was rationed, but still good. Pippin and I then followed Gandalf into the Tower where the meeting was held in the Throne room.  
  
Lord Denethor barely acknowledged my presence. The other people there--Faramir, the Prince of Lossarnach--didn't even notice me. His first announcement was that Faramir was to take a contingent and defend the fortress at Osgiliath.  
  
Much discussion ensued on the suitability and merits of this idea, and I heard some place called Cair Andros mentioned as not needing more men to defend. Or maybe there wasn't time to defend it. Not sure what Denethor said, exactly. Faramir himself seemed fatalistically resigned to the plan and I winced at the hatred his father showed him.  
  
As the discussion wound down, I decided to grab my opportunity for freedom. "M'lord, I'll go to Osgiliath with Faramir."  
  
For a moment, they all looked at me in surprise. After all, I hadn't spoken since they had begun, merely remaining a silent presence at Gandalf's side. Plus, I was a woman. And an unknown. Not sure which got to them more.  
  
I smiled, "I'm a fair wizard and a good fighter. With me, those left to retreat from the fortress once it falls should all live. Besides, I'm bored."  
  
Lord Denethor found his voice, and replied coldly, "You are needed here."  
  
"Bullshit. There's nothing to do here except boost failing morale and roll bandages. ANY of your captains can do the former better than me and even children can do the latter."  
  
"You will stay here. I have spoken." As if that decided the matter, he turned back to the Prince dismissively.  
  
Bad move. I was bored, frustrated, and now pissed.  
  
::Uh-oh.::  
  
I tugged at a tiny pocket of energy and used it to shatter the discussion with a thunderclap. I smiled pleasantly at the Steward of the City. "Listen, honey, I don't even listen to his White Wizardness. You think I'm going to obey you?" I snorted, "I don't fucking think so." With that, I turned to Faramir. "I'll meet you at Osgiliath." Not caring whether he answered, I stalked from the room. ::Alayna. We're leaving.::  
  
::Sounds fun. Know the way?::  
  
--  
  
Halfway down through the city, a man on a horse caught up with us. He appeared to have been tossed on the animal at great haste, not even being allowed time to pack. "Milady?"  
  
"If you're coming to haul me back in chains, I'd suggest you just stop and tell them I tried to kill you."  
  
"Lord Faramir sent me to lead you to Osgiliath." The man shivered, "Glad am I that you're going with us. The Captain needs all the help he can get, what with that old idiot in the Tower."  
  
A snort of laughter escaped me, before I attempted to look dignified as I tossed the soldier a glance, "Aren't you afraid of being arrested for treason?"  
  
He shrugged, "The Lord Denethor doesn't pay attention to such as I."  
  
Common soldier, then. Usually the best type to find at your side during a battle. "Good, then. Tell me, what's your name?"  
  
"I am Phred."  
  
"Well, Phred, I hope you don't mind riding hard. I want to reach the fortress before nightfall, if possible."  
  
He nodded in surprise, "That it is, if you are willing to sacrifice meal stops."  
  
"Not a problem."  
  
We rode in almost companionable silence until reaching the gate in the Pelennor. The guards there glanced at me in askance, but since we both knew the passwords, there was no pausing in our journey.  
  
The fields of the Pelennor behind us, Gondor became a wilder country, scrub-brush and grass dotted with small trees. I thought of the Ents, then, and wondered if what Pippin and Merry had said about the Ent-wives was true. It was sad to think of those proud creatures left without a means to perpetuate their species. Time would pass, and they would die out, leaving Middle Earth less something magical.  
  
It occurred to me that I might be able to find the fabled Ent-wives. It would be something clean to do. No blood would have to be spilt, no one would die. I liked that plan.  
  
As evening drew towards us, I spotted what had to be Osgiliath. It lay upon the silver winding of the river like a small black armband. As if some great thing were mourning.  
  
Sometime later, the river was in front of us, broad and swift as it moved between its two banks. Osgiliath lay spread around it, a hulking circle of dwindling ruins that might once have been a vast fortress of strength. Even now, with the ramparts crumbling, the structure was incredible to behold. The stones were ancient, whispering to each other of years long past. Battles had been fought here, some won, some lost. Pain and death hovered in the air, as if the coming battle called it from memory.  
  
There was an odd sense of peace, though. As if the very nature of war caused the stones to rebel against it. A sort of stasis held crumbling mortar and brickwork together, the bright white stone greying gently.  
  
It was built by the same architects who had constructed the White City, and I recognised elements in the walls there in its framing.  
  
Two halves of a hole lay across the river, spanning it with a stout bridge that could allow the passage of hundreds of troops in minutes. Looking at the bridge, I knew we'd have to destroy it, and hoped there was a way that didn't require magic.  
  
On the other side of the river, the stones were pitted with destruction and use, and I guessed it had been this side that was much used by foe and friend alike.  
  
As we rode through the west side of the fortress, I could feel the rocks around me, chattering. The ages had passed them by leaving countless memories in them, just waiting to be touched and remembered.  
  
We crossed the bridge, and I looked down into the river, fascinated by the depths concealed there.  
  
Deep scorings dotted this side of Osgiliath. The fortress had been broken before, but there were still parts together. It was towards these that we rode. The men garrisoned gave us surprised looks as we arrived.  
  
"We're here to prepare for the arrival of Captain Faramir." I said calmly. "I'm Marya Luthien, I plan on keeping this pile of rock together for a while."  
  
Phred gave a sort of muffled snicker, and then answered the captain's look. "Lord Faramir will be here shortly."  
  
I dismounted and wandered off while they discussed provisioning. The eastern side of Osgiliath would not survive a concerted assault--the bottleneck of the bridge would see us lost and cut off on this side if we tarried too long. So it would be best to study the place and set traps for our enemies. With this in mind, I spent the next four hours wandering in and out of the ruined bits and repaired bits, and the in-between bits. I sketched rough gridlines of magic, leaving them open for anything I might want to attach to them. If the place was overrun, I could even loose a conflagration spell, sending the place up in molten flame.  
  
The idea had appeal.  
  
Once I was finished, I headed back towards the populated portions, sensing that Faramir had arrived along with those troops he'd been granted. It angered me that Denethor could not see the good this son had done and would do.  
  
Unlike Boromir, I sensed no pride or avarice from him. No sense that he would take the ring if ever presented it. Instead, I sensed a calm competence and true feeling of protection for his fellow man.  
  
He was speaking with his captains and sergeants when I arrived. Considering I was slightly dusty and sooty, my arrival could have caused a ripple of surprise, or interrupted his instructions. It did neither. I was impressed.  
  
I waited until he was finished and had dismissed them to various tasks before approaching him. "Busy night."  
  
"Scouts report movement in Ithilien." He sighed, "I fear we shall be overrun ere morning finds us."  
  
"Doubt it." I pondered our options. "Look, are there maps of Ithilien?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Lemme at 'em, then."  
  
"I am unclear as to your purpose."  
  
"Well, see, if I can get a feel for the lay of the land, Alayna and I can wander off and harry Mordor's forces."  
  
"Too dangerous."  
  
I looked at him, and snorted, "Your father's opinion of me was almost that low. I survived Helm's Deep, a Balrog, and the journey from Rivendell. This is merely a momentary piece of cake. Besides, it's nothing more than the sort of thing we did while--" I paused, sensing something in the air. A faint crackle, like magic, skittered along my mind.  
  
"Marya?"  
  
"Ssh." I held up a hand and closed my eyes, focusing on that elusive trail, fishing it out of the background noise around us. There. An orange-red sliver of magic, less a spell, and more... familiar. As if I'd touched or sensed this before. It didn't come from Mordor, either. I turned slowly to face west, and stared back towards Minas Tirith as if I could see through the wall in front of my nose.  
  
"Marya." Faramir touched my shoulder, "What is it?"  
  
"I don't know. Nothing." I shook my head and turned to him, half-smiling. "So. Those maps of Ithilien?"  
  
-- 


	15. In Which There Is Entirely Too Much Mud

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Fifteen: In Which There Is Entirely Too Much Mud  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
::You suck.::  
  
I didn't bother to reply as I shoved another sopping wet branch out of my way and ducked under it. Behind me in the underbrush, Alayna demonstrated remarkable talents as she made not a sound following me through this section of Ithilien's woods. It was raining, one of those dreary, soak everything yet never pour types. An annoyance for those of us using the woods as cover as we stalked Mordor's army. But we would live.  
  
Alayna's complaints probably stemmed from wanting to be in a warm and dry stall, with hay and clean water to drink. I could understand that. Me, I was dreaming of a warm cushiony chair near a fire, with a mug of hot coffee in one hand and something sugary and chocolatey in the other.  
  
Neither of us were destined to get our wishes.  
  
Sound came to us filtering through the trees in such a way as to make it difficult to pinpoint the source. But the sounds were what we had been waiting for. An army marching through muck and mud, approaching the fortress of Osgiliath intent on sweeping over it like it was so much dust to chuck under the rug.  
  
They were going to get a surprise.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
I peered out from under the bushes, and inspected the approaching host. At the forefront were riders on black horses, cruelly barbed armour gave them a frightening appearance, but I was betting scrawny men were under that. Well, semi-scrawny, considering that stuff had to be weighty.  
  
Behind them marched tens of thousands of men and orcs and creatures which should never have lived. I studied them with horror, recognising the doom of Minas Tirith and the downfall of the west. Unless it all came together, anyway. Which it might. We could be that lucky. Some of the creatures seemed to be made of parts of others, and I wondered how much necromancy Sauron was into. They might just have been science experiments, of course. But I doubted it.  
  
The army was larger than I'd thought. And it worried me, because it was large enough to literally walk over Osgiliath and not even notice the fortress.  
  
And Alayna and I skirmishing would do shit to slow them down. For one thing, I didn't want to show magic this early in the game. For another, there were just too damned many of them.  
  
I sat there in the mud and calculated the ride back to Osgiliath.  
  
::What the fuck are you thinking for, bitch? Let's MOVE!::  
  
She was right. I rolled out from under the bush, ignoring the mud which collected in my clothes, and hopped into the saddle.  
  
We went, half-flying, half-falling through the forest as we tried to get away from the army and towards the people under our protection. Companions can run fast, when they need to. But in trees and bushes, with muck and rain, they're almost as slow as a normal horse.  
  
I swore. ::The road.::  
  
::Might not be any better.::  
  
Ducking another branch, I got a stream of water down my back, ::Anything has to be better.::  
  
::Right.:: She turned, angling towards the road. Hopefully, we'd get there far ahead of where the army was. Hopefully. If not, they'd see us. And we'd have them chasing us, which would give less time for Osgiliath to be evacuated.  
  
I fretted until we spotted the muck-covered surface. Far to my left, I spotted what had to be the pointman. We hit the road and Alayna stretched out her legs, galloping. Mud flew up behind us in spatters, and I wondered if they'd be able to read the signs of a horse passing. Possibly. It didn't matter, really. We had enough of a lead to reach Osgiliath within an hour.  
  
Luck was with us. We hit the walls of Osgiliath 45 minutes after leaving the Dark army far behind us. Alayna skidded to a halt in the forecourt, and I dropped out of the saddle, running for the hall and Faramir's strategy room. Behind me I heard someone exclaim over our condition and take Alayna off for a hot mash.  
  
I didn't have time to care about her or even myself. My clothing and hair were just as coated with mud and water as hers. I was slightly warmer, thanks to the dragon mail, but it wasn't much.  
  
One of the sergeants looked up at me as I entered. Faramir was notably absent. "Where's Lord Faramir?" I demanded.  
  
"He's gone to inspect the far battlements."  
  
"Shit." I turned to run, then paused, "Start getting the troops ready to move out. Mordor is coming." And I was gone, pelting from the room towards the far battlements.  
  
They were a section of the ruins which still stood, but it still took me a good five minutes to get there and another to find Faramir, inspecting a section of wall for defensive purposes. Nice, but it wouldn't stand.  
  
It started raining harder, too.  
  
"My lord!"  
  
He blinked at me, "Marya. I thought you'd gone to make play with the enemy."  
  
"There's too many of them. This side of Osgiliath must be abandoned." I probably looked really silly. Soaked, with rain dripping down my face. And muddy. Well, at least my hair was short. Long hair and rain are a bitch. Nowhere near as romantic as some would have you think.  
  
"We can defend it."  
  
"No. We can't." I grabbed his shoulder, resisting the urge to shake him. "The force marching upon us is probably ten times that faced at Helm's Deep. They will walk over us and not even realise we're there."  
  
Despair lit his eyes. "Then we are lost."  
  
"Nope. Once we're across the bridge, we can hold them for a time." I fingered the trailing ends of magic around me and smiled grimly, "And I plan to leave them one hell of a surprise."  
  
He nodded shortly. "I'll begin the mustering for evacuation."  
  
I coughed. "Hate to say it, but the army? It's about an hour behind me. There might not be time for an organised retreat."  
  
Faramir shot me an irritated look, then began running back towards the main hall, "Then we shall have to leave faster than normal."  
  
"Right. Faster." I pondered the magic around me, and sighed. To get them into the fortress, they'd have to believe there were men to defeat here. Bait.  
  
I hate plans.  
  
--  
  
Dawn was approaching as the three hundred or so men stationed on the eastern side of Osgiliath abandoned the fortress to its fate. Remaining behind were myself, Faramir, Phred, and about ten other men. We had fast horses tethered on the causeway to the bridge. Alayna was with them, happily cropping grass and occasionally mocking my still-sodden state. She'd gotten a rubdown and that warm mash before having to go out into the rain again. I didn't even get cold wine.  
  
Horses get *much* better treatment than humans in a battle. Easier to replace us.  
  
My calculations said the enemy would be upon us within ten minutes. We'd give them a bit of a fight, then run like hell, leaving the structure for them to plunder. I was hoping a lot would want to plunder. They'd probably use it defensively, as well. Expecting us to wait on the other side and pepper advancing forces with arrows.  
  
I was off by five minutes. They must have seen me and tried to hasten their speed to overrun us faster. I'll admit a bright green horse isn't that easy to disguise, but... Rain is usually pretty good at dulling everything.  
  
Or maybe they saw me. Didn't matter.  
  
Within moments, we were over-matched, the archers hitting targets that were immediately replaced with others. I kept firing, though, until the ladders were mounting the walls, and eager orcs swarmed up them. Faramir blew the signal, and we all hastily fired one last time, then ran.  
  
I waited at the top of the stairs into the courtyard counting off archers as they surged past me. Faramir was the last, and I shoved him ahead of me then jumped down onto the stone of the yard as orcs began swarming over the crenellations and the gate shattered with a loud bang.  
  
Our party made it into the hallway, and I slammed the door behind us. "All here?"  
  
There was a quick affirmative from Faramir, and then we all began following the hall through our escape route. Behind us I could feel the orcs crowding in the courtyard and spilling into the stables and other small buildings there. Things were broken and looted, as they searched for the defenders of Osgiliath.  
  
We made it to the second door, and brightened. One more stood between us and certain escape. I turned as I reached it, and winced as something crashed. "They've gotten the first door open."  
  
Faramir nodded grimly and shoved me in front of him as he slammed this door shut. "I'm almost of a mind to stand and defend." He caught me opening my mouth and shook his head, "I saw the size. I know 'tis fruitless. Still... it grates at my bones to leave this place for them to cover in filth."  
  
"They won't." I narrowed my eyes as the second checkpoint was tripped by the invaders. "We need to get out of here. They're right--"  
  
Behind us the door shattered inwards and orcs crowded into the corridor. The leader spotted us and set up a cry. Faramir and I turned, swords out. In the narrow way, we'd have the advantage. They couldn't all come at us at once. The men turned behind us, readying themselves to catch any that slipped past our guard. Two nocked arrows to bows, and fired into the oncoming enemy.  
  
We fought, swords swinging as one for an instant, then dividing into two separate and deadly entities. As they surged over us, we backed, the men behind us keeping us level and upright.  
  
The closer we got towards that final door, the more I worried that the army would slip around behind us. That would be bad. As the minutes and seconds dragged on, I swore, and decided on a different course of action.  
  
With a quick twist, I stepped out in front, and shoved Faramir behind me. "Run."  
  
They were smart men. They ran. For a moment the orcs surged forward, sure of their victory. Then I shot two concussive blasts into the ceiling and rabbited. It fell, crushing them and nearly catching me, but I was just fast enough to get out of range.  
  
Ahead Faramir held the last door open and I ran through it. He followed and we both mounted at the same time as dark men came galloping around the side of a building. I grabbed an arrow and fired at them. With haste, we rode, our horses taking us across the remaining feet of the causeway and onto the bridge. I twisted in the saddle, firing arrow after arrow, stopping our pursuers. They regrouped, and their own bowmen began firing us. Luckily, we were nearly out of range.  
  
It was almost with a sense of sadness that I turned as we entered the earthworks on the other side of the bridge. Faramir was checking his mean while arrows rained the area of the bridge for a time, then stopped. After all, it's sorta stupid to shoot out arrows at nothing. Waste of ammunition and all.  
  
Shortly, though, a troop of orcs came stalking across the bridge, determined to take our side and see us fall. Faramir gave orders, and our bowmen competently kept them away from the closed gate.  
  
"The bridge," I said conversationally as we walked along the battlements, "How are you planning to destroy it?"  
  
Faramir shot me a surprised look.  
  
"Logic."  
  
"Ah. We dammed a bit of the river last night. Now we will release the water, pushing a boat in front. It shall hit the bridge broadside. That, along with previous work along the pillars shall see it fall."  
  
I studied the visible pillars that rose above the water. They were worn with age and the river, and new striations indicated points where Faramir's men had hacked at them. It occurred to me that this move would destroy a bridge that had stood for centuries. But if it halted the host of Mordor, I was all for it. "Sounds good. How soon?"  
  
"We are nearly run out of arrows. Soon."  
  
That soon came shortly as I loosed a last few arrows into the scouting orcs. Then I noticed the river quieting, as if awaiting something. And then that something arrived. A boat, rushing forward, a wall of water behind it. The crewmen scrambled about busily, until at the last possible moment it turned. And the sailors jumped free as ship and water slammed against the bridge. Stone and wood shrieked together. Orcs cried in surprise and terror as the water washed them away.  
  
But it wasn't enough. The bridge swayed, but the ancient stone held. I swore and dumped the bow to the floor. "Keep them off me, please."  
  
Faramir didn't have time to ask his question as I pulled off cloak and boots, slid out of every stitch of outer clothing, and ran. The gate was merely a leap, where I grabbed the top and flipped over. Water-slick stones caught at my bare feet, but I ignored them, even as they tried to send me sliding over the edge. I slid, fought to keep my balance, and ran for the section of bridge that was slowly resettling after the recent contretemps.  
  
Studying the stone there, I readied myself. The cuts would have to be precise diagonals. I swung, shoulders and hips driving the blade down and deep into the stone. It shuddered and my momentum ran out halfway through the stroke.  
  
An arrow flew at me and I cursed, wrenching the blade free and dropping flat. A volley of arrows came from the west bank and I bounced back up and made the second cut. The stone rumbled a protest, but didn't fall. I turned and made a third cut some twenty feet away from the first two. More arrows flew past me and I ignored them.  
  
More creaking and groaning came from the bridge and I knew it was working.  
  
A fourth cut and time stopped for a moment. Then twenty feet of massive stone bridge gave a soft sigh and slid free, falling into the river.  
  
I leapt, slamming the sword deep into the western pillar. My weight dragged it down in a diagonal and the already unsettled stone tipped, twisted, and slid apart. Another section of the bridge began falling as I hit the water below.  
  
As with the last time, the Anduin was fucking cold. I fought the suddenly swirling currents and headed towards the western bank.  
  
I miscalculated, however, and two tons of bridge fell on me. The water helped cushion me, but I was caught, dragged to the bottom where I wouldn't be able to breath. Pinned beneath massive shelves of stone.  
  
::FUCK!:: Alayna's mind-voice was bright with irritation. ::Telekinesis, you idiot!::  
  
::Oh. Right:: I pushed, using the current for leverage, and slid out from under the slab. The current tugged me south, and I let it.  
  
I surfaced moments later and began swimming for the western bank. Once I was out, I gathered my reserves and began making my way north. I could still see Osgiliath, but I had a good mile to go before I could even think of warm cocoa or dry clothing.  
  
::Poor baby.::  
  
I sniffled. No coffee.  
  
::Faramir's impressed.::  
  
::That's so comforting.::  
  
::He's lamenting your loss.::  
  
::Well, don't let him burn my clothes.::  
  
::Never.::  
  
I yawned and hefted my sword. ::How's the Dread Army taking this?::  
  
::Confusion.::  
  
::Yippy skippy.::  
  
-- 


	16. Soaking Wet and Still Shorter Than Phred

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Soaking Wet and Still Shorter Than Phred  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I was wishing I'd had my boots on by the time I made Osgiliath west. My feet hurt, poked and pummeled by a hundred different rocks and pebbles and tree roots on my way back. The rest of me wasn't much happier. I was damp, I was chilly, and the fine trembling in my hands in no way could be attributed to a lack of food.  
  
The gate guards thought I was a ghost.  
  
Never under-estimate the power of the untrained mind to assume someone wearing a light colour, looking like she was dragged backwards through a bramble, is a ghost. I wasn't, but they were sure...  
  
Luckily, before things could get really bad, Faramir appeared, demanding to know the cause of the sudden commotion.  
  
"I am."  
  
He blinked at me, eyes shocked. "My Lady Rainbow!"  
  
"In the flesh." I grimaced, "The damp flesh. I don't suppose there's a pot of hot tea back there, and warm clothing?"  
  
"Of course. Let her in, you fools!" He caught my hand as I came in. "You are all right?"  
  
"Soaked through, and dying for some food. But otherwise, yes."  
  
He nodded. "Come with me."  
  
--  
  
What felt like hours later, but was probably no more than a few minutes, I was wrapped in a large woolly blanket, my bare feet propped in front of a roaring fire. A large mug of steaming soup was cupped between my two hands, the steam warming my face. As I sat there, I contemplated quitting. Stopping this whole questing and saving the world business, and just settling down somewhere and quietly raising sheep.  
  
But even as my lips quirked at the idea, I knew it wouldn't happen. Fate would never let me rest, never give me pause.  
  
I sighed expansively. And wondered to myself that Joan of Arc must have wished for rain. Not that I was feeling particularly martyr-like. But my feet were cold.  
  
"Lady Marya?" Phred's voice was tentative.  
  
I looked around the side of my chair at him. "Yes?"  
  
"Tell me of Boromir."  
  
His face was rather blank, but I tried to read it nonetheless. I gave a slight shrug, then considered my words. "He was... He was a man. There were faults, but at the heart of him was his never-ending sense of duty. And he wanted to save his city and people."  
  
"Was he a bad man, do you think?"  
  
"No." I continued carefully. "Some might say so. I even think he was to some extent. But as I said, he was merely--human." I eyed him for a moment, then turned the tables, "What were your impressions of Boromir?"  
  
"He was our Captain of the Guard, the son of our Steward."  
  
"But would you follow him into hell?"  
  
He shook his head, "For him, no. He could order me there, but... I loved him, I think." He looked away from me, his voice turning husky. "For all the good it did. He was, as you said, only human."  
  
I essayed him a humourless smile. "And Faramir?"  
  
"For him, I believe many of us would venture into hell without his needing to ask."  
  
I grimaced, "And may have to, if this goes at it seems to be heading."  
  
"Ah." Phred nodded slowly, then changed the subject. "And this Strider we have heard rumours of. What is he?"  
  
"He's a man as well." A chuckle rippled through me, and I let it out. "Very pressed by his duty and destiny, poor man. I suspect life has not been kind to him. Someday..."  
  
My words echoed in the air, and I could suddenly see it. Aragorn, old and grey with Arwen beside him. Crowns upon both their heads as they watched laughing children and grandchildren play and cavort around them. They were happy. I touched the image for a moment, gladdened by the promise it held. Then I let it go and smiled at Phred.  
  
He blinked. "My lady?"  
  
"It's nothing. Why do you ask, anyway?"  
  
"For the knowledge, in case we live."  
  
"We'll live," I assured him, standing and wincing at the cold that gathered into my feet from the floor. "I foresee a long future for you, many happy children."  
  
He blushed, then looked at his feet. "My thanks, my lady."  
  
"Marya. We're here to live or die together. Formality seems a waste of time."  
  
He tilted his head, grey eyes studying me, then nodded. "Marya."  
  
"Ex--"  
  
I was cut off as a page burst into the room. "My lady!" he cried, panting.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
His speech was fragmented by his gasps for breath, but the gist of it was something like, "Captain *pant* Faramir *pant* the wall!"  
  
I didn't wait to hear anything else. Instead I stamped my still-cold feet into my boots, slung the blanket around myself like a sarong, and took off. Phred followed me at a more sedate pace.  
  
We arrived on the wall to find Faramir watching the east side of Osgiliath with a calm that the men milling around him did not display.  
  
The orcs were constructing a bridge of sorts across the gap I had created. There were merely long, thin planks, for now, but I saw larger slabs of wood further back, and knew we would not have to wait long for them to be storming us in force. Soon enough, there would be a stable enough crossing for an army. And we had no arrows left to defend ourselves with. Sword-play would be massive suicide.  
  
"Osgiliath will have to be abandoned," Faramir said, his voice soft and sad.  
  
"Abandoned it may be. But it will not go quietly," I promised him.  
  
He looked at me, then slowly nodded. "It is well that you are with us, milady."  
  
"Probably."  
  
A young guardsman came dashing up. "Captain Faramir! The Oliphaunts! They have forded the river and are coming down on Osgiliath to the north."  
  
Faramir closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and began snapping out orders. Shortly thereafter, we were all piling into the saddle, the wounded in front (those that could still ride), or held between those of us on stretchers. Two carts trundled along with us, carrying those who were near death.  
  
We had to abandon the dead. It was raining, too. I sent one silent prayer to any nearby gods to watch over the dead and not let them be destroyed in some manor by the evil that chased us.  
  
As we left the last gate, a loud crash told the story of the bridge gate being broken. I touched Faramir's shoulder. "We have done all we can."  
  
He still looked sad. "Indeed."  
  
"But first, I think it's time to leave Osgiliath clean of the taint of evil, before we say goodbye." I turned Alayna and faced back the way we'd come, reaching for those floating threads of magic. They came eagerly to my hands--as if bored with the long wait--and I whispered a soft command as I laced them together.  
  
Silence fell. It even stopped raining.  
  
Conflagration shattered that silence as Osgiliath east (and a small portion of the west) went up in flames, the fire reaching for the sky and immolating over a thousand orcs and men. I know. I felt them die. My body sagged, the energy draining from me as I fought to bolster my shields against the onslaught of death cries.  
  
I'd forgotten this part. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Death is too powerful for those of us with telempathy. We feel it in our marrow and every single one we cause haunts us.  
  
'S what booze is for, sometimes.  
  
Faramir caught me, holding me upright as I slowly regained myself. "Thanks." I said to him when my voice worked again. He nodded and released me.  
  
The others were staring at us, shock and amazement in their eyes. Some even had fear and terror wreathing them. But I couldn't care right now. The enemy was still on the move, we had merely paused them for a short time. Beyond the ruins of Osgiliath, they were already re-gathering their strength to chase us.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
He nodded at me, and gave the signal. The horses surged into the dawn light, heading for safety and dry at the causeway forts.  
  
--  
  
It was later afternoon when we came to the forts. The rain was merely a drizzle now, more irritation than problem. The wounded were quickly unloaded and stored and dried comfortably in one of the larger halls the fort contained. I stayed with them a short time to assess that they were cared for properly. When one of the doctors gave me a scowl for daring to contradict him, I took myself off.  
  
As the afternoon deepened into evening, I found myself contemplating this commander I had fallen into the command of. I finally decided that not only did I like Faramir, and preferred him to his elder brother, but I also liked his troops. They were rather courteous and accepting of a female warrior. And I shouldered my side of the tasks presented us. Maybe that was because most had actually seen me defending them and their Captain. There was a certain awe in which they regarded me probably due to the conflagration that had been Osgiliath. I could live with that, I hope. But it might also have been that Faramir was just a really nice dude and it wore off on them.  
  
The causeway forts were slightly smaller than Osgiliath, but still marginally more defendable, due to the fact they basically sat across the road. I was down with this idea of defense. Although I suggested to Faramir that as many men as could be spared be sent on to Minas Tirith, since the fort wouldn't last, and the bloodshed could be great in the retreat.  
  
He countered by ordering all able-bodied men to prepare wagons. There would be time to pack and send the wounded off before the front of the army reached us. After the destruction of Osgiliath, they would be more cautious. Unless what drove them to chase us was worse. I considered what I knew of Sauron, and decided that was fairly likely.  
  
The wounded were nearly all packed into the wagons when I got a rather brilliant idea. I could weave spell-barriers in front of the forts. That would keep us safe, somewhat. I frowned as I considered the idea. The Witch-King might be able to break them, of course. But I would have a respite. Sleep.  
  
Sleep was a damned good idea if I was to fight any more.  
  
With that decision made, I made my way to the battlements and began. Just in time, too. In the distance, I could see the outriders of the army of darkness.  
  
Meticulous thread went into the first barrier. A bit of give here, weft that tore there, until there was a shimmering hole from left to right and rather high up as well. I anchored it into the road 30 feet from the forts.  
  
I began weaving another one as Gandalf arrived.  
  
When I was done, I turned to glare at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"The Witch-King drives them. 'Tis fear which sends them so hastily against Gondor."  
  
"Yeah. Got that. I had hoped we'd have more time to relax before they followed." I sighed; fear or no, these people wanted to destroy a land I had come to love.  
  
"Hence the barriers," he guessed with a nod. He straightened, "I have been sent to assess the situation here."  
  
"You didn't come just to see me, then? I'm saddened."  
  
"Seeing you is a plus." He noted, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"Damned with second place." I slipped an arm around his waist. "Still, it could be worse."  
  
"How so?" His lips grazed my cheek and I turned to catch his mouth with mine for a time, drinking him in preparation for a long separation.  
  
"You could be swearing off sex."  
  
A coughing sound distracted us, and I looked over Gandalf's shoulder to find Faramir standing there, eyebrow raised while his lips twitched in amusement. "Mithrandir, you have come to aid us?"  
  
He turned, the cold White Wizard again, and I sighed softly. "I have come to ascertain the situation, and I shall guard the wounded back to Minas Tirith."  
  
"And you, my lady?" Faramir was looking at me gravely.  
  
"Not going."  
  
"Very well, Mithrandir. My heart is less worried knowing a wizard watches over my men." Faramir smiled at me, "And having the lady Marya to guard us shall lighten the spirits of many a man here."  
  
I half-bowed, "I wouldn't leave anyway. I'm more use here." And distance would thin the barriers to non-existence, I thought. But he didn't need to know that.  
  
The Causeway Forts were more recent than Minas Tirith, but almost as well built. Ancient craftsman had been good at what they did. I gave us a day until we were over-run. Less, if the Witch-King began knocking down my barriers.  
  
Faramir and I saw Gandalf off with the last of the wagons, and I softly told him of my guesses. He nodded sadly, and agreed.  
  
While the night began to pass, I walked the fort, leaving booby traps and spell-hooks to catch the unwary. Unfortunately, Sauron's troops *would* be wary after the trap of Osgiliath. It was highly likely none of my magic expenditures would do any good. But I had to try.  
  
I finally collapsed into sleep sometime after midnight.  
  
Minutes later (or what felt like minutes later) the first of my barriers was shattered, dragging me away from dreams of pain and horror.  
  
I could be grateful for that, at least.  
  
Faramir looked up as I entered his small office. He hadn't slept either. "They've broken the fir--" My voice stopped as the second shattered, nearly knocking me flat with the backlash resonance. "--second." I choked out, throwing a third and a fourth up, hastily reweaving scattered shards of magic into a cohesive half-whole.  
  
He was standing, shouting orders as I turned back out towards the battlements, running as fast as my shaking legs could take me.  
  
Corridors and people flashed by, some startled, others dodging quickly.  
  
I took the stairs to the battlements two at a time and came bursting out the door to startle the wall-guards. "They're breaking through! Archers, prepare--"  
  
The third and fourth barriers crashed down, and I went to my knees as the backlash washed over me, everything going numb for a moment before my instincts caught up and I channeled the streams of magic into a strike against the seething army.  
  
Loud concussive blasts shattered the night air, followed by cries of pain and rage.  
  
A bow was thrust into my hands, and I staggered to an opening, aiming and firing without paying much attention. Letting my instincts and body guide my shots as I dragged myself back from a mental abyss.  
  
I let loose every arrow I had, then handed the bow off to someone and drew my sword.  
  
The wait was short. The ladders which had been thrown up and repelled over and over stayed, and things swarmed up them. Some were probably even human. I was beyond caring, now. My sword went up and slid into the first belly, and I kicked its owner back down the ladder, taking his shield mates with him. If it had been dominoes, it would have been amusing.  
  
But these were living, breathing creatures. And a small part of me cried as they died. It was, simply, us or them. And I was already damned. So it was them.  
  
Somewhere nearby, I heard a scream for help. Our side. I turned, making sure my section was still covered, then ran. A small group had broken through, ten or twelve orcs making mincemeat of two unguarded archers.  
  
A third lay on the ground, choking on his own intestine.  
  
I screamed, wordless rage breaking through the fog as I twisted and turned, chopping indiscriminantly at the orcs. Five went down before they recovered enough to mount any sort of defense.  
  
An arrow flew past me, taking out the sixth. With quick precision I cut the legs out from under the seventh and eighth, then jumped into the air and somersaulted behind them to whirl and behead the ninth and tenth.  
  
The eleventh took an arrow in the throat.  
  
I kicked the twelfth off the battlements, sending him falling onto his comrades below. The ladder I shoved back over, watching the six orcs on it fall back into the sea of arms.  
  
-- 


	17. Dead Men Tell No Tales

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Seventeen: Dead Men Tell No Tales  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
Time dissipated, then. It became a world of strike, parry, thrust, kill. Defend comrades, drag wounded off the battlements and out of the way of the enemy fire. It was a hopeless, timeless siege, despair taking everyone as it went on. Dawn came and went, and we fought on in the pearly grey darkness.  
  
Faramir sent a page to my side, finally, informing me that the Forts were being abandoned for Minas Tirith. I followed the lad back to the captain's side, finding him in a moment of quiet between lunges. "Start getting the men out. I'll hold them back as much as possible, then follow."  
  
He shot me a look, then nodded, "May luck be with you."  
  
"You too."  
  
I left him there, beginning the withdrawal. My task was now to convince the enemy to stay attempting to kill me while the men got out behind. I figured if they knew we were running, they'd swarm the fort, and none of us would make it far. I threw up another half-hearted barrier, some of the edges slicing into orcs as it sprang into being. I made this one opaque, too, so that they couldn't see how few were left on the battlements. I hoped they wouldn't guess the reason for that. Decided they were too stupid. They followed Sauron after all. Frightened of him or not.  
  
Apparently, the Witch-King was tired of trying to break them, because he left it alone for a bit. I sent as many of the men around me away as I could. Some refused to take my orders, and I waited for Faramir's page to bring them, irritated. There wasn't a long wait, and I was soon left on the battlements alone, slipping here and there to peer down at the enemy.  
  
They seemed to have paused for a regroup, or something. Maybe they were going to dance the macarena.  
  
I couldn't tell, thanks to my barrier. But at least I was the only one they'd kill. Or frighten. Perhaps a ballet. Swan Lake would be nicely challenging for them, I thought. Nice big group. They could all hop around, toeing themselves.  
  
::All gone.::  
  
::Good.::  
  
It was a very odd half hour. I wandered the battlements collecting arrows and knives, determined to put up a good front. I set throwing spells in every place they were feasible, pleased to find that there were more than enough half-broken arrows for the spell to be really effective. Dead orcs and humans littered the walkways, and I made certain of their demise as I crossed them. It was a macabre duty, but I didn't really want to get a sword in the back if one were still alive.  
  
The Witch-King finally seemed to get bored, and tore down my latest barrier. Prepared for this eventuality (unlike before, more fool me), I took the brunt of the backlash and fed it to the trap-spells that littered the fort. I fired the arrows I scrounged, running along the walkway, picking the frontrunners off one after the other until I ran out of walkway. I doubled back, tripping the first of the throw-spells at the opposite end, since the orcs were beginning to swarm over that wall.  
  
I ran out of space to run pretty quickly, and got off the last four arrows before having to duck an axe. Rolling, I came up to find archers firing at *me*. It was a very unpleasant surprise to say the least.  
  
Without caring where they flew, I tripped all of the throwing spells at once, then ran for the side stairs into the courtyard.  
  
Arrows slammed into me, piercing through the shirt I wore and hitting uselessly on the dragon mail. I was lucky none of them tried for my head. While the shock of my continuing movement paused them, I made it to the stairs and scampered down.  
  
They followed me, demanding my blood. Or, rather, the blood of the sorceress who had destroyed so many of their comrades in Osgiliath.  
  
Gee. And here I'd thought I'd stay anonymous.  
  
I ran through the fort, ducking in and out of doorways and corridors, drawing the orcs and men in further and further.  
  
::Like a hamster in a really elaborate cage.::  
  
::Me or them?::  
  
::You.::  
  
::Does this mean I'm going nowhere fast?::  
  
Alayna sent a mental snicker, and I dodged around another corner to find several orcs awaiting me.  
  
They attacked and I had to stop one sword with my hand. The blade sliced into the skin, sending blood flowing at an alarming rate, and turning a useful appendage into a slippery mess. "Shit!"  
  
As if sensing weakness, the rest surged forward as one, intent on my death. I kicked out, knocking several over. Never never follow each other closely. The slight gap gave me enough of a second to unsheath my sword, and after that, I made short work of the rest. Unfortunately, it gave those behind me time to catch up, and I turned to fight them, hand still bleeding profusely.  
  
::Window.::  
  
It might be a viable idea. It would cut my merry chase short, but I was losing blood, weakening quickly thanks to lack of sleep and magic use.  
  
Turning, I ran over the bodies in my way, dodging at least two arrows and a sword. The window I needed was just a bit further along the corridor. I reached it as one of the Nazgul turned the corner, its voice screeching in triumph.  
  
"Not today, kiddo." I saluted cockily, smashed the window with my sword, and jumped.  
  
I picked up glass bits as I tumbled down the short roof. Several exposed sections of skin were gonna hurt (I could already feel blood on my nose). And my clothes would never be the same. Sadly. Open air swallowed me a second later, and I controlled my tumble, aiming for the haystack I knew to be there. I was off slightly and stumbled as I twisted my left ankle on landing. With a curse, I rolled over and back onto my feet and began running across the courtyard, aiming for the small door which let out onto the road. It was a postern-gate, self-locking from the inside.  
  
The bar was jammed.  
  
Behind me, orcs began pouring into the courtyard. Either they were the same ones chasing me, or others. I didn't know, at this point. It didn't matter, really.  
  
Cursing, I wrapped both hands around my swordhilt, raised my arms above my head and swung them down, slicing the door straight down the middle. The bar paused me for a moment, but I perservered. With the crack there, I kicked one side out and slithered through as the first of the orcs swung a sword at me. It got caught in the lintel, and I was free.  
  
I ran like the wind towards the road, cursing my sword and my still-bleeding hand.  
  
Alayna galloped into view, and skidded to a halt long enough for me to drag myself into the saddle. And then we were off, orcs on foot in close pursuit.  
  
Which means we out-distanced them swiftly.  
  
I sheathed my sword and began bandaging my hand as Alayna galloped to catch up with Faramir and the others.  
  
Blood had stained my shirt sleeve and several splotches decorated my pants leg. I sighed, irritated. At least the glass had ripped more holes in them.  
  
::Rags.::  
  
::Yeah.::  
  
::We're closing on them.::  
  
I nodded, gazing about me at the road, trying to remember how much closer the Pelennor was. The sky was dark above us, the edges of Sauron's evil spell leaching out into the air of Middle Earth the longer it lasted. I could see in the dark, but not many others could.  
  
::About a mile.::  
  
Which was sort of good. It meant we'd be inside of it before the army of Sauron caught up. But it also meant they were that much closer to Minas Tirith. And the Pelennor certainly wasn't going to stall them. In fact, I doubted it would do more than give them pause, like a small toenail that's come loose.  
  
::Oh, crap.::  
  
::What?::  
  
::Images from the horses Faramir and his men are riding. They've been ambushed. The Witch-King is there.::  
  
::Dammit. They must have circled around the barrier--no wonder he didn't bother taking it down! He was after bigger prizes.::  
  
She sped up, her stride lengthening, hooves pounding against the road.  
  
We heard the battle before we saw it. Horrible sounds of metal clashings and the screeching of the Nazgul. I tapped into the last of my magic reserves and began an incantation for light as we rounded the last corner.  
  
Brightness exploded into the space, shining starkly on brushed steel and blood and blackened iron alike. The Witch-King gave a strangled cry, and turned to me, angry.  
  
I rode straight at him, fearless and uncaring as to what happened. I could kill him. Probably. Even though I knew he wasn't mine to kill, I didn't care anymore. I was tired, bloody, exhausted, worn out, and ready to quit this world for someplace better. Not that that would happen.  
  
He must have sensed the implacability because he ran. He sent his steed into the air above us, and ran.  
  
My mocking laughter followed him.  
  
Before the light had faded, the remaining men of Gondor had subdued the last of the rather startled orcs. A page caught my foot as I sat there, watching back up the road. "Milady?"  
  
"Yes?" I was so tired. The army would keep coming, never stopping. It was probably mid-afternoon, but it felt like I'd been up and moving for a thousand years.  
  
Maybe I had.  
  
"Captain Faramir, milady, he's hurt."  
  
I dismounted slowly, my mind knowing what I would find as I followed the lad back to his master.  
  
He lay on the ground, eyes staring blankly at nothing. I knew he was alive, but that didn't matter. "Dammit." I dropped to my knees and touched his face, striving to sense the man behind those eyes. I couldn't find him. It was irritating, because I *could* feel he was there, but I couldn't reach him. And there was no time for a trance.  
  
Alayna nudged me with her nose. ::We need to get to the city.::  
  
::I know.:: I looked up at the page. "I can't do anything now. We have to get to the city."  
  
The sergeant nodded to me and disappeared to get the men started on to the city again. I remounted Alayna, and had them hand Faramir into my grasp. With him across the saddle in front of me, we marched onwards.  
  
The gates of the Pelennor rose in the distance and I sensed a lightening in the men around me. I let them feel relief, knowing it would be the last time they could feel it for some time.  
  
The sergeant seemed to share my concerns as he turned to me, face worried. "We have no time to stop."  
  
"No." His name was Jasan, I'd learned. At some point. Behind us I heard the drums slowly close. "In fact, we have less time than you think." I turned Alayna and gestured everyone past me. By now they were used to such orders and quickly moved, not bothering to say anything.  
  
With precision I threw up another barrier across the road. It would only hold until the Witch-King shattered it, but at least it would give them a slight pause.  
  
As fast as I built barriers, he was taking them down. It really irked me because I knew I could take him if I had to. And I couldn't. He was someone else's kill, and it would screw up some universal balance if I did so.  
  
Didn't stop me from wanting to, though. Hadn't stopped me earlier, either, I reflected as the barriers came down. I considered setting a feedback loop, but decided it would take too much time. And there were wounded among us besides Faramir.  
  
Once we reached the Pelennor, some of them actually felt safe. Idiots.  
  
A small contingent stayed behind as we crossed into the grasslands. I felt sad, but couldn't really focus on that feeling much.  
  
They would die. We might yet live.  
  
I liked our odds better.  
  
Five minutes later, a panting scout knocked my odds considerably. Sauron's army had broken through the Pelennor to the north of us.  
  
"Shit." I turned to the nearest rider. "Ride to the city. Call Gandalf and the men of Minas Tirith to our aid."  
  
Jasan shot me an irritated look, but seconded my command.  
  
I then handed Faramir down to his page and Phred. "Get him to the city as quickly as possible."  
  
"Yes, milady."  
  
Phred grinned at me, "Don't die."  
  
"Not planning on it."  
  
We rode to the north, aiming at an angle to be between the approaching army and the city. There wasn't far to go.  
  
I could have sworn, as I approached a slight rise, that I heard a distant crowd shouting. They screamed at the army I saw as I topped the rise, telling them to "Get on with it!"  
  
But it had to have been a figment of my imagination. Really.  
  
After all, the image of Sauron's troops loitering about painting each other's nails and giving dating advice was highly absurd.  
  
They spotted me seconds later, and charged, intent on destroying me so that I couldn't warn the city of their approach. I think my sitting there calmly waiting for them sort of startled them. They over-ran me.  
  
It was not a good thing. Well, their surprise was. But the being surrounded by a sea of orcs thing was not.  
  
Alayna spun, her hooves knocking several orcs down before an Uruk-Hai hooked a hand around my neck and dragged me off her back. I didn't go easily and he died before I hit the ground. But I did go. The ground was very irritatingly hard.  
  
::Get up.::  
  
::Doing so.::  
  
Rolling to my feet, I grabbed the nearest axe and appropriated it for my own use.  
  
It was a nice axe, I decided, as I used it to sheer through armour and flesh. But just not as good as my sword.  
  
Taking a moment to throw it into the next opponent, I unsheathed my sword.  
  
::Oh, fuck!::  
  
::Wha?:: I cut the legs out from under a thing that might once have been an antelope.  
  
::Rock troll.::  
  
::Damn.::  
  
I spun away, trying to fight back to Alayna, since height would be useful.  
  
Sadly, I didn't make it.  
  
"ROAR!"  
  
"Hey! Keep it down! Some of us already HAVE headaches, you know!" I yelled at him, irritated.  
  
He (it was definitely a he. Apparently, male genitalia is NOT a taboo thing to see in Middle Earth) replied by screaming at me again, then taking a swipe with his mace. I dodged back, then forward, nicking him in the side.  
  
I thrust into him as he reared back in surprise, my sword burying to the hilts in a moment. The creature bellowed as I twisted the blade, preparing to pull it free and run like hell while he crashed to the ground.  
  
::Look out!::  
  
Half-turning, I caught his flailing fist in the side of my face. Reeling, I fell, stubbornly refusing to release my grip on my sword as it slid from the chest of the monster, a river of foul blood streaming from it. Another bellow shattered the air and he fell, burying me underneath his mass in an instant.  
  
Time slowed as I struggled to free myself, to crawl from beneath the behemoth and reach clean air again that didn't smell of blood and death. I was too drained to attempt even a bit of telekinesis, and my angle was too awkward for actually pushing it off of me. With a curse, I maneuvered about until my sword was again buried to the hilts in it.  
  
With a wrench, I ripped it open from ribs to pelvis, immediately regretting it as a lake of blood and intestine soaked me to the bone. Perservering, I pushed upwards, using the sword as a shovel, digging for the surface through the rock troll's body. The point finally broke through, and I gulped a deep breath then dove upwards into the body, carving the back open as I slowly stood.  
  
Fresh air hit me in moments, and I gulped gratefully at it. I probably looked horrible, intestine and other matter strewn about my body. But there was no time to care about it as another wave of orcs bore down on me.  
  
I spared an amused thought for what their reactions would be when I sprang out of the corpse, then did so.  
  
::You really do look silly, you know.:: Alayna remarked caustically.  
  
::Thank you.::  
  
Again and again, I took heads and arms and legs, stabbing into and through blackened armour like it was so much cheesecloth. I lost track of where I was, my feet slipping and sliding as I danced in blood and other things. We crept inexhorably closer to the citadel of guard, but I didn't care, absorbed in doing as much damage as I could while I could still stand. Alayna caught me up again eventually, and from her back I could see that we were in the middle of a vast sea, bobbing on a current of weapons and death. It was only by luck that we remained floating, since every orc and uruk-hai and human and creature tried to pull us down. A deadly undertow that would end with nothingness.  
  
We broke through, finally, becoming a fugitive in front of the army as the gates of Minas Tirith loomed. I could sense that dusk was falling, night preparing us for more siege. At least this would be more exciting.  
  
::We sleep.::  
  
::Yeah.:: They must have seen us at the gate, even coated with blood and Fate knows what else, because they were open as we staggered through, our energy gone, our bodies exhausted.  
  
Gandalf was there. And Jasan. Both sent us up into the city. To bed, and to the stables. I was past paying attention to anything, mind narrowed down to the idea of rest.  
  
I was down with that.  
  
Because it was either fall into bed, or fall asleep in the saddle. While Alayna fell asleep in the street.  
  
We'd sleep through a war. Or die in the middle of one.  
  
And the Pelennor was over-run.  
  
-- 


	18. Whiskey in the Jar

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Eighteen: Whiskey in the Jar  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
A small body lay at my feet, mouth opened in a soundless scream of pain. Or sadness. It was hard to tell, at this distance. Being ten feet tall and all that. It's so difficult.  
  
Perspective changed, though, and I was somewhere else, a small stooped figure creeping along a rock shelf, watching below as two young hobbits journeyed through this land of washes and gullies. They were close, now, I could almost see them pausing for a supper, then slipping into a doze. And then, oh, then, it would be mine. My Precious.  
  
Golden shiny circlet of power and lust. And it was mine. Should be mine. Had been, once.  
  
I shuddered away from that mental touch, fighting with something.  
  
My mind slid sideways, and I was suddenly hobbit-size, watching as Stinker and Slinker argued amongst himself as to when the best time to kill the nice little hobbitses was.  
  
Sam.  
  
I was Sam. Or Frodo. And I had been Gollum. As if I'd flipped a switch, I realised I was dreaming and couldn't affect the events. As if I was seeing the past as it had already happened.  
  
We walked the marshes, the lights of old death and pain trying to lure us with promises that meant nothing. To be smothered in fogs and old cloaks, waterlogged and bloated faces peering from pools. Their eyes a bright green, hungry with want and need for a soul again.  
  
Gollum led us, and I had no time to wonder at this puzzle. For he swept us through the marshes, and almost up to the Black Gate. Gazing at it through Sam's eyes, I shuddered. When the armies of Gondor marched--if they survived the coming battle for Minas Tirith--they would confront that huge edifice, and fall. I wasn't looking forward to it.  
  
They turned south, skirting the walls, and entering the lush glades of Ithilien. Away from the evil taint of marsh and gully, they relaxed.  
  
I shifted, then, the dream fading out of Sam, and fading into somewhere else. A desert, the winds slow and scorching as they shuffled sand against my legs. I turned onto my stomach and slowly got onto my hands and knees as sand began flowing upwards, pooling over my fingers and toes, whisps blowing up into nostrils.  
  
Coughing doubled me over, my lungs rebelling at this treatment. More sand wrapped around my body, as if the wind were attempting to bury me from sight.  
  
But I was so tired, so exhausted. There was no energy left to fight. I had to let it wash over me, cuddle me as I collapsed into it. Warmth slowly wrapped me, and I slid from consciousness.  
  
And into a volcano.  
  
Molten lava had buried me, but I bubbled to the surface in an air pocket, breaking free only to have a pronged stick shove me back under, catching in my hair and holding me there.  
  
I fought, trying to breathe, to get away, pain reaching unbearable levels as my skin slowly crisped and flaked away.  
  
The mountain erupted, and I was born along on a lava flow, only my bones left, falling bits of ash becoming my hair in an odd way as I sledded down the rockface, tendons crackling like fried chicken.  
  
Water hit me, frying into steam in milliseconds, and I screamed, the mountain behind me echoing that cry.  
  
Pain sent me awake, and I rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thump. Cold stone lay under one cheek, one hand half curled in a fist, the other flat against it. The sheet was tangled around my legs, and I sneezed as dust slid into my nose.  
  
For a moment I lay there, then I pulled myself to my feet. And the world lurched sideways, the walls and me turning into odd swirls of colour on the canvas of the universe.  
  
"My Preciousss."  
  
Gollum, again. Creeping along stealthily as the hobbits approached the mouth of something that felt incredibly old and evil. Then Gollum and I skittered ahead of them and were gone.  
  
I shrieked in frustration against the past as Gollum and the creature Shelob made a pact against the approaching halflings. Shelob was a massive spider, bloated and horrible with power and age. She'd probably make seven of Alayna, with spare left over for seven of me.  
  
Nothing helped, as I struggled against the sense-memory of the land of Mordor. I realised that's what I was getting as I hung there, absorbing these horrible images, fighting to not see them. Mordor was haunting me. Shelob stalked the two, and stung Frodo. But she was interrupted in her quest for food by Sam, who stabbed her deeply with something that hurt.  
  
An elf-blade, I was betting, as we dragged ourselves back to the lair, to hide and recuperate.  
  
The conscious side of me put a note to myself about destroying that lair.  
  
I fell out of that and into somewhere else. A calm place, light and cool air wrapping me gently. A hand touched mine. ::Marya.::  
  
Galadriel's voice sounded concerned, and I curled up on it, drinking in the rest and salve for the pain in my soul. ::I may fail.::  
  
::You shall not, my dear.:: Amusement.  
  
::These are only dreams.::  
  
::Are they?::  
  
I shuddered, ::I could hope they were.::  
  
::Yes.:: A soft hand touched my forehead, and real sleep began shrouding me in its hold. ::You shall do well. Rest and regain thy strength.::  
  
True sleep wrapped around me, then, and I dreamt no more.  
  
--  
  
When I finally awoke, the sun was nearly gone again. I yawned, stretching out the kinks as the world around me resolved back into reality. There was no one nearby, so I decided to laze about in bed. After all, even the 15 or so hours I'd had hadn't completely restored me. But I did feel rested.  
  
And I'd dreamt. Odd things. And Galadriel. That part must have been real.  
  
::Morning, lazy.::  
  
::Evening, surely. And. Coffee?::  
  
Alayna snorted, ::As if.::  
  
I sighed. ::Don't wanna get up.::  
  
::Food?::  
  
My stomach rumbled in response, and I sighed again, ::Stop that.::  
  
::You're going to get such a reputation.::  
  
I dodged that, ::How goes the siege?::  
  
::Not bad. There've been a few forays out there, but most haven't done more than just keep the army off the battlements down there.::  
  
::Good, good.:: A piece of memory touched me, ::He'll try to break the gates tonight.::  
  
::Why?::  
  
::Properly Gothick. I don't know, it's just the thing--the Witch-King seems to enjoy things like that. The proper Atmosphere and all that.::  
  
She snorted.  
  
I ate. Evening deepened into full darkness, and I slowly disgorged myself back into blood-encrusted chainmail and sword. There weren't any knives left, but someone would be willing to loan me a bow. I hoped.  
  
My mind wandered for a time, recalling dreams and nightmares. Undercurrents of things to come. I turned away from that, concentrating on the present. On the tangible things I could do here and now. One thing my body had done was heal the slash across my palm where I'd blocked the sword earlier. A lifetime ago. My ankle still twinged, though. Bones were harder to heal.  
  
As for things to do, sadly, that was currently nothing.  
  
Oh, the siege was going apace, but there was no need for me anywhere yet. Gandalf and the commanders had the troops in hand, and they were happy. Mostly.  
  
Unhappy were the enemy, of course. Those that were human were frightened of Gondor, sure the giant men of the west were planning to invade and claim their land. Or Mordor itself had bound them to it in some way. I suspected blood sacrifices, as well as kidnapped families. Or even just threats. Fight for us, or we kill everyone.  
  
I slowly made my way down through the city. Re-provisioning at one of the guard stations.  
  
::Pilfering, more like.:: Alayna corrected me smugly while she stood in the forecourt, basking in the semi-darkness.  
  
::Shut up.:: Strapping on the few knives I found, I considered the coming battle and shuddered. I was getting tired of this, but there really wasn't anything else to do anymore. Fight and fight... I gathered a bow and several quivers of arrows, determined to roam the battlements as I had at the Deep.  
  
That moment of death touched me again, and I shied away from it, determined not to allow myself to fall that low.  
  
Of course, that had been out on the field of battle. But I had still let my anger control me, still nearly destroyed myself with darkness. Sauron would have had a good mistress in me.  
  
I shoved that bit of speculation to the side and left to continue down to the battlements. Alayna came with me, and we walked silent as ghosts down through a city of people who expected to die shortly.  
  
Alayna nudged my shoulder. ::They're not as bad as all that. Stop being so hopeless.::  
  
::Bah.:: I wrinkled my nose at her, then sighed. ::You're right.::  
  
We got to the gates and I left Alayna there to wend my way around the battlements, chatting with the soldiers there, making a nuisance of myself, and occasionally letting off arrows in the direction of the milling mass of army below us. They made many attempts to climb, using ladders and siege towers, but it was a half-hearted sort of attempt, as if they were waiting for something.  
  
The night passed swiftly, and as dawn approached, one of the commanders made the decision to run a foray down onto the Pelennor. I joined them, as horses were saddled and orders were given. This seemed like a bad idea, but maybe it would be good.  
  
I was in the middle of the pack, as we filed out onto the plain. The host of Mordor seemed surprised, but set to with us with alacrity.  
  
Soon, the ordered charge fragmented into pockets of fighting that spread across the base of the City of Guard. I was by myself for a time, sword cleaving deeply as Alayna danced under me.  
  
In the midst of the melee, I spotted one of the guardsmen, besieged. We all were, but he was wounded and would die soon.  
  
Not on my watch. With a quick movement, Alayna and I were next to him, and I dove off her back, rolling to come up and slash the legs out from under one of his opponents. He gaped at me, then responded quickly as I boosted him into Alayna's saddle. The enemy surged forward, and I turned away, trusting Alayna to get him out of the battle.  
  
There wasn't much time left, anymore. I could sense that things were coming to a head, but didn't want to worry about it.  
  
::I'll be back.::  
  
I snorted and beheaded three orcs. ::I should hope so.::  
  
Swords flashed in the half light as I fought. Mine was coated in blood, so it was sort of a sparkly red flashing. Again and again I dodged and slashed, trying to take out an entire army by my little self.  
  
I felt very melodramatic.  
  
Blood poured into the dust we churned with our feet, eventually turning to mud and stickier substances. I went down while executing a particularly dodgy move, and rolled, wondering how much brain matter I'd picked up. Morbidly, I wondered if it would affect my mind.  
  
A spear slammed into my back, stopped by the dragon mail. But oh, that bruise was going to be painful.  
  
I was on my feet again, fighting still. Too late, I realised they had drawn back for a moment. Two orcs took me down, one from above, one from below, and a pile of them descended, suddenly. I felt like a football, when the quarterback fumbles.  
  
I slithered out of the pile slicker than any running back, though.  
  
Once standing, I slammed my sword down into them, slicing about halfway through before finally losing my momentum. With a jerk, I yanked the sword free and spun to take out the man behind me.  
  
A frustrated growl echoed in my head as I dodged a club and skewered two odd-looking shambling things that might once have been llamas, but now stood on their hind legs. ::What?::  
  
::I can't get through the mob to you.::  
  
No surprise, really. ::Am I the last one from our side in a--:: I paused to dive, roll, decapitate, rinse and repeat. ::thirty-foot radius? Or so?::  
  
::Yeah. I'd say closer to fifty.::  
  
::Cool.::  
  
::What--Oh. Twit.::  
  
::Am not.:: I spun again, decapitating another orc.  
  
We argued while I fought, one hand occasionally weaving a quick sigil into the air around me. It was a spiral. Sort of. Actually, it probably was much more odd-shaped, like a freaky trapezoid. But, in the end, I got to the center of the tootsie pop, and paused to check that all of the strings met properly. They did.  
  
I pulled my shields tightly around myself, then added a layer of physical ones. An instant later, I struck a match.  
  
The explosion shattered the air and melted the ground into glass in a good-sized section of the Pelennor. Charred grass and bits of bone and metal fused into a whole.  
  
Moments passed and I realised I'd fallen to my knees, as if huddling with my arms over my head would keep the fires from touching me. I dissipated the physical shield, then retched as the stench of charred flesh reached me. Heat shimmered on my skin, and considering what had been there moments before, I was probably lucky it only shimmered. The dragon mail probably helped, too. My boots were smoking.  
  
Clicking sounds came to me hazily, and then Alayna's nose touched the back of my neck. I shivered.  
  
::We have to get back.::  
  
I scrambled to my feet, using her legs and the stirrup as a crutch. Another wave of shivering hit me, and I swayed into her side, sweating. ::Where's my sword?::  
  
::In your hand,:: she replied testily. ::Now will you mount before my hooves melt along with your boots?::  
  
"Oh." I sheathed my sword and mounted slowly, then croaked out, "Can I die now?"  
  
::No. Now hush.::  
  
The fireworks had sent the army of darkness scattering away from the gates of Minas Tirith, for the moment. Which was all to the good, since I couldn't do more than cling to Alayna's back and hope no one wanted me to do anything useful. That last burst of magic had taken more than it should have. Probably because I'd been in the center of it.  
  
::It's closed.:: She sounded surprised.  
  
With effort, I looked ahead of us at the main gate. ::Odd.::  
  
::Hang on.:: Alayna put on a burst of speed, and I grumbled and hunched over, clinging tightly as she jumped. We rose in the air, up, up, up, then I felt the walls passing beneath us and we were falling, landing with a stagger that sent me half out of the saddle.  
  
Gravity hit me like a ton of bricks, and I folded, allowing that it had the stronger hand. A guard caught me, and it all went sort of grey for a moment.  
  
Too soon, something smashed against my waning brain, tingling against my shields. I looked up, staring at the great gates. From the other side I sensed a presence, malevolent and powerful. I knew what it was an instant before the gate of Minas Tirith shattered inwards.  
  
The Witch-King gave a cry of triumph, and stared through the opening at me.  
  
Energised by the impending sense of Doom, I remounted hastily, and then paused, something else catching my attention.  
  
"Marya!"  
  
I looked down from Alayna's back, mind reeling from my own expenditures and the magic the Witch-King had used on the gates. Pippin stood at my stirrup, gasping for breath. I leant down and caught his shoulders. "Breath."  
  
"Can't find... Gandalf. Denethor--" He paused and took a deeper breath. "He's trying to kill himself and Faramir, in the tower!"  
  
"Fuck. Find Gandalf. I'm already on my way up." I prodded Marya into a slow gallop, aiming for the road that wound all through the city until it reached to tower. Even at a gallop, it was gonna take a hell of a lot of time...  
  
::Remember the speed a Companion can use?::  
  
::Yeah.:: I tried to remember teleportation spells, knowing I had to get to Denethor NOW. Also knowing I was in no shape to even attempt such things. But I had to go. Denethor killing Faramir was not in my plans.  
  
::Remember how I can be fed by my rider?::  
  
::Yeah.:: Not that one. Too much time to set up. And, besides, I didn't have virgin's blood, or a cockatrice.  
  
::Remember the tight twists and turns of Minas Tirith?::  
  
::Yes.:: I replied impatiently, wishing she'd stop distracting me.  
  
::Don't complain if we hit anything.::  
  
::Wha--:: "FUCK!" I cried into the sudden wind. We were a blur of speed, dashing from the bottom of the city to the top. Recovering my equilibrium, I fed energy to her through our link, clinging and bent over to minimise my wind resistance. I trusted we wouldn't actually hit anything on the way up, especially since Alayna doesn't like pain. 


	19. Death and Taxes

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Nineteen: Death and Taxes  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
To those we passed, we were probably nothing so much as a great wind.  
  
In fifteen minutes we had traversed what had once taken an hour. I had almost arrived unscathed. And I was more awake than I had been before, the act of feeding her energy having awakened my own reserves.  
  
Alayna slowed down, her hooves clattering against the cobbles of the courtyard outside the white tower. ::Smoke.::  
  
Indeed. Had we taken longer, the amount I could smell might have been considered billowing. For now, it was just feathery little whisps. I dropped from the saddle, adrenaline still keeping anything from hurting, including the scrapes on my left arm from a near-collision with a doorway several minutes before. My body fooling itself into believing it *could* do this.  
  
Bruises, too.  
  
Four armed house guards faced me as I neared the door. "Let me past."  
  
"We cannot." one said gruffly, "No one is allowed through save the Steward and heirs."  
  
"They're both dying. In a few minutes, there won't BE any Steward or heirs." I snapped. "Now let me PAST."  
  
In answer, they drew their swords.  
  
My patience flew away, like blood from a stuck pig. "Great. We're having a pissing contest while that madman burns his son alive!"  
  
"Let the lady past."  
  
I half-turned to find Beregond at my side. "Sir--"  
  
He shot me a look of such anguish that I closed my teeth on the order to leave this to me. He would save his beloved captain, with or without me. "Well, time's a-wastin'." I turned back and smiled at the guards. "Now, we can do this the hard way, or... No, wait, there's just the hard way."  
  
With that, I ran at them, sword held low. They raised their blades, preparing for a strike that I didn't bother giving them as I jumped and flipped over them neatly. I landed slightly badly, but ignored the half-twisted ankle to disappear into the room. It twinged in irritation, being the same one I'd damaged at the causeway fort--ankles are always bitchy heals. Behind me I could hear Beregond engaging them, giving me time to save Faramir. I didn't give a piece of sand for Denethor. Burning to death was probably too good for him.  
  
Smoke wrapped around me and I fought a cough, pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth. The smell of orc blood assaulted my nostrils, but if it was that or suffocate, I was down with blood.  
  
"Denethor?" I called, searching with my senses and eyes for the beginning of the funeral pyre.  
  
Nothing answered me, except the sound of crackling wood and whooshing smoke. And then I heard it. A soft rambling voice, rising and falling oddly in a very large lack of sanity. "I see I saw an Eye saw me. End it shall, the eye shall see..."  
  
I banged my knee against one of the stone plinths and cursed.  
  
"Gandalf. You told me wrong. We shan't win. The Eye told me so." The voice giggled.  
  
"Not Gandalf, dude." I studied the density of the smoke, and realised I could see orange to my right. Where the voice was coming from. I turned and stepped closer to it. The heat began to get sharper as I neared the fire until it was almost furnace-like.  
  
"The eye, the eye, the eye-OH!"  
  
A ring of fire separated the madman and myself. I could see Faramir, crumpled next to him, almost lifeless. "Dude. If you kill Faramir, I may have to bring you back to life just to kick your ass."  
  
"Back to life. Back to reality." He sing-songed, then giggled.  
  
A shiver touched me and I ignored it, bringing my sword up into a guard position. Carefully, using it as a focus, I slashed downwards, clearing and shoving the fire back to one side. A small gap appeared, and I stepped over it into the ring.  
  
Denethor glared at me. "You!"  
  
"Yeah. Me." I could see Faramir's chest moving. Way too slowly, but where there's life...  
  
"I ordered your death." He snarled.  
  
"That's nice." Well, that explained some of the friendly fire I had dodged. And to think, I hadn't even been suspicious. I was really getting complaisently blind in my old age.  
  
::Definitely. I mean, dude. A White Wizzard?::  
  
::Bitch.::  
  
"You get away from me, you bitch."  
  
"Gladly." I stepped closer, sword in front of me.  
  
He sneered and placed his sword against Faramir's throat. "My lesser son shall die at your hand."  
  
I gauged the distance, then shrugged and lowered my sword, turning so my left hand was slightly obscured. "No, it's yours." I tilted my head to the side as I pulled out the last of my throwing blades. "By the way? Faramir far out-ranked Boromir in skill, intelligence, and all-around smartness. The city liked him better, too."  
  
"You--"  
  
I didn't let him finish, stepping forward, sword sliding under his and popping it up into the air as my left hand snapped forward, the knife flying true.  
  
He fell across his son, sword still held up by my own, knife embedded in his right eye-socket. I reached out and dragged him off, throwing the body onto the fire.  
  
"My lady?"  
  
Beregond.  
  
"Stay where you are, I'm bringing captain Faramir out!" I yelled.  
  
I paused after sheathing my sword, startled to finally note the palantir that lay at Faramir's side. In the firelight, it gleamed a silvery gold, and I shuddered at the utter evilness that resonated from it. Denethor must have used it time and again, attempting to see Sauron at his work. And failed, becoming ensnared. Sad, really.  
  
A memory caught me. A thread of magic passing over us as we discussed strategy at Osgiliath. I suddenly knew what it had to have been. Denethor and his palantir, seeking and watching those he trusted least.  
  
With a shrug, and a hope it would burn, I pulled Faramir up and into my arms. I turned, muttering at him. "Damn, kid, you're heavier than you look."  
  
The fire ring had closed its circle.  
  
"Damn."  
  
::Be right there.::  
  
::But--:: There was no room for her, she'd get burned, she--  
  
::Hush. I know what I'm doing. Don't move.::  
  
Hooves chimed on the flooring as Alayna entered the masoleum. A moment later, she was landing next to me, one leg almost touching the fire. I mounted as fast as I could, Faramir held close. Alayna had exactly one step before she'd have to jump back over. And I knew there were other plinths beyond us, if she landed wrongly....  
  
::Just hang on.:: She snapped.  
  
I did.  
  
Slow-motion filmography hadn't been invented yet in Middle Earth. But if it had, we would have been flying.  
  
--  
  
::Horns.::  
  
I blinked as I handed Faramir down to an attendant. Beregond was nearby, nursing bruises. He'd been taken into custody, I think. Too difficult to tell, at this juncture. ::Huh?::  
  
::Rohan has come.:: She raised her head, staring down towards the base of the city and the Pelennor. Faintly, I heard a sound, and then she sprang forward, hooves chiming as we began repeating our whirlwind journey. I clutched at the cantle and tried not to fall off. ::We're, y'know, needed. And all.::  
  
For what? Cannon fodder? Not that I was totally gone, but my body was craving rest. Exhaustion flickering under the still-bubbling adrenaline. What I really wanted to do was curl up with a snuggly wizard for a week. Preferably with neither of us smelling of smoke, death, or blood. It wasn't to happen, of course.  
  
We flew back down and I pulled together my last reserves, sending small feelers down into the earth below us. Something responded, and a trickle of energy touched me, awaiting use.  
  
A flickering mental touch drifted across my mind, and I was suddenly suffused with more energy than I knew what to deal with. A caress ran along my body, and Gandalf was gone. I half-grinned, and stretched slightly, renewed.  
  
::Lucky bitch.::  
  
::I'm sure if he could, Shadowfax would snuggle you mentally.::  
  
::Bah.::  
  
We reached the main gates and passed over the rubble. Alayna paused for us to gather our bearings. It was total carnage. Both sides fought as if it were the end. Which in a way, it was. Blood slicked the churned grass to mud as far as the eye could see. Death and more death. I nearly turned and ran, stomach rebelling at the thought of wading in. And then I saw Vin, head on the pike of one of the twisted black armoured things. Horror wrapped me and I pulled my sword from its sheath as Alayna surged forward.  
  
The owner of the pike died before he even saw me, his armour shielded body sliced nearly in half. As he fell, his comrades turned on me, and I took one out, then rolled off Alayna's back to deal with the others. I growled when one stepped down, shattering Vin's skull into so much mush.  
  
My next recollection was of Alayna jerking me to the side, her teeth wrapped in a fold of the mail. "What?"  
  
::The Witch-King.:: She replied tersely, and I mounted, silent. My sword was dripping with all manner of blood and viscera, and I realised I'd cut a large swathe in the nearby contingent of orcs. Most were now backing from us.  
  
She ignored them and took off across the field, headed for the north edge. I hacked and slashed as we went, downing a score of the enemy.  
  
As we neared a cluster of fighting, the light from the delayed dawn broke over us. The spell Sauron had set to create the darkness was finally dispersing. I could see clearly, now. Eowyn and Merry were together, swords swinging as one, the Witch-King in front of them screaming terribly. They struck a last blow, and he fell, striking them as he did so. I felt something twist in the fabric of magic, and swore.  
  
Dangerous energies splashed out, the death of something so powerful nearly unseating me. I fought the waves, then remembered; like a Quickening, this sort of death must be endured. Not fought. I closed my eyes and absorbed them into myself. I filled with the horror and un-death of the old King of Angmar. And when there was no more, I threw back my head and screamed my sorrow and rage.  
  
A column of energy spilled upwards, propelled by my emotions. The power slammed outwards, shattering as it hit the last of the darkness-spell. Shards of magic fell back downwards, slicing to ribbons pieces of the Army of Darkness.  
  
They turned towards me, and realised that the Witch-King was gone.  
  
It broke them.  
  
The death of that great evil shattered the men and orcs down to the toes of their boots. And what had been a fairly matched battle became a rout. Thousands died under the blades of the men of the West.  
  
I slammed my shields closed against the carnage, determined to ignore it if at all possible.  
  
Alayna moved again, walking us to where Merry lay. I slid from the saddle, suddenly so tired I thought my knees wouldn't hold me up. But they did. I knelt and checked the pulse on the hobbit, then moved to Eowyn. Both were cold, so cold. The same cold as Faramir was still. I made a sound of frustration and fought back tears.  
  
Movement behind me sent me spinning, hand on my sword. But I wasn't holding it, I'd dropped it to the ground. The trooper staring at me was from Rohan, his face white where the blood didn't patch it.  
  
"We need litters."  
  
"My lady... My King..." He gestured feebly towards my right, and I staggered to my feet, finding my sword and shoving it under the chest band on my saddle. If I sheathed it now, all the blood would ruin the sheath, perhaps rust the sword. I fought my way after the soldier to the King of the Riddermark, finally recognising him as the standard-bearer who'd ridden with us so long ago.  
  
Theoden lay on his back, eyes staring sightlessly at the bright sky above. I dropped next to him, but knew what I would find.  
  
He was dead, the power of the magic the Witch-King wielded having stopped his heart. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks, and ignored them as I looked up at the lad. "Find others. The Lady Eowyn and Meriadoc are alive yet."  
  
With a nod, he ran to find others. The battle had moved from our edge of the plain to the south, where I could see the distant standard of someone. It had to be Strider, Aragorn that is. Those who were alive still, flocked to his side, and they began steadily driving the army of Mordor back from the Pelennor.  
  
As the wounded were slowly removed from the field, I returned to the battle, knowing even my one sword would be a help.  
  
It all began melting into one stroke and strike and parry after the other. And I found myself sliding into a fugue state, Alayna moving beneath me as my arm rose and fell.  
  
Hours later, I came to myself. I was standing, Alayna was gone. Gandalf was holding me up, as he pried the sword from my hand. "Hi." I blinked myopically at him, the light bothering me.  
  
"You're awake." He sounded relieved.  
  
"Possibly." I hissed and unclenched my fist. The sword fell out and landed on the stone at our feet with a clatter. I blinked again, finally taking in my surroundings. A huge tub was sunk into the floor in front of us. The water in it was steaming gently. And I was barefoot, cool tile under my toes. Blue tile.  
  
Gandalf touched my shoulder. "I cut off your outer garments, my dear. But the mail I couldn't touch."  
  
"Yes." I reached up, mechanically, and touched the join. The mail unsealed from my body, falling off as if I shucked an old skin. I stepped out of it and down into the tub, my foot settling onto a step. The hot water wrapped around my calf.  
  
I was submerged to the waist a second later, my body crying with pain and pleasure. I hurt. Dark bruises mottled my skin and I heard Gandalf gasp when he saw them. I glanced at him and grinned ruefully, "Great stuff, that mail. I still bruise, though."  
  
He accepted that and began pulling off his own clothes, folding them neatly and laying them over the back of a chair. He advanced towards the tub slowly, looking at me.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're in the way."  
  
"Oh." I backed away from the steps, groaning softly as the water caressed my worn muscles.  
  
He stepped down and sighed, sitting on the carved-out bench next to the steps. I drifted back over and slid an arm around him. He cuddled me for a moment, then made a noise.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You smell of orc."  
  
He caught my hand before it could do anything, like slap him. "Not an insult, or your fault."  
  
"Damn right." I muttered into his shoulder, refusing to look up at him.  
  
A hand touched my hair. "There is soap. If you hand it to me, I shall wash you."  
  
No need to tell my lazy ass twice. The warm water was magically relaxing and the thought of the effort of washing my own hair was just too much. I languidly picked up the jar of soap and handed it to him. He took a glop and began rubbing it into my hair, adding some of the warm water. It smelled wonderful, sharp herbs and a sweet afterscent. Wonderfully soothing.  
  
He worked it through my hair until it was very lathered, then bade me to duck under the water to rinse it.  
  
I slid down off the bench, sliding under the water, eyes closed. I touched the leg next to me and skimmed a hand up it. He caught my wrist and I gently drifted back up into the air.  
  
With little effort, I rejoined him on the bench. His hand slid into my wet hair, fluffing the curls. I glanced up at him, and blinked at the gravity in his eyes. "What?"  
  
"You lost so much for me. Your hair...  
  
I shrugged. "Hair grows, darling."  
  
Letting the matter drop, he turned me and began lathering my back and shoulders, fingers kneading gently at wire-taught muscles. The tension slowly drained from me, and I winced one last time before he moved up to massage my scalp.  
  
Eventually, I rinsed again and then turned to face him. "Thanks."  
  
He half-bowed, and touched my cheek. "You're welcome."  
  
I curled against him and sighed as the warmth of the water slowly penetrated my muscles. He hugged me for a moment, then moved me gently and began using the soap on himself. I closed my eyes and let myself drift, luxuriating in the water and the feeling of being clean and cared-for.  
  
Time passed, until I was pruny. Gandalf caught my arm and we slowly got out of the now-lukewarm water to warm fluffy towels and fresh clothes of some sort. I wrapped a robe around myself and looked at him. "Sleep."  
  
"Yes." He half-smiled, "I'll be along when I can."  
  
I staggered up to the room we were still sharing with Pippin. There was a plate of meats and fruit, and I ate some of it before staggering to the bed where I removed the robe. Dimly, I wondered if the mail would be brought back here. It occurred to me--I hadn't mentioned Denethor's attempted murder. But that could wait.  
  
And then there were slightly scratchy blankets, and a cool sheet against my skin. And I knew no more. 


	20. Wit Ends

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty: Wit Ends  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
My body had decided I should sleep, and I did. For about two days. There were periods of wakefulness during that time--mostly for food and movement and another bath or two. Clean or not, I liked water. There was also at least one memorable ravishing of Gandalf. At some point, I remember telling him about Denethor, as well. I woke to him pacing back and forth agitatedly, muttering. That didn't last longer than I had time to untangle myself and pounce him.  
  
Peoples' obtuseness apparently provided for lots of sexual frustration, and I fell asleep rather exhausted. I'm sure his relaxation at the next meeting of the 'council' was a shock to some people.  
  
For councils of war convened as I slept, and went on day and night for those days.  
  
Healing and rest went on, too, and one of my awake periods was spent chatting to Pippin about those I knew. Faramir and Merry had been healed by Aragorn, which gladdened my heart. I could have done it, but it hadn't seemed my task--and sleep had been more important.  
  
The Lady of Rohan had also been healed in a similar fashion. She was apparently still mooning over Aragorn, too. Poor man.  
  
Gollum walked through my dreams, an ever-present apparition of doom. Or Doom. I wasn't sure. "Soon," he would hiss, voice oddly flat. "Ssooon, my preciouss shall return. And poor Smeagol shall be pleased. Yess."  
  
Beside him stalked the ever-present heaviness that exuded from the very air of Minas Tirith, as if the battles and death had stolen the heart of the city, turning it from a gay and happy place into one full of pain and dank. It was somewhat irritating.  
  
The people of Minas Tirith slowly trickled back while I spent my days and nights asleep. Many of them waited, though, sure that to return to their once peaceful city was to court death, or worse. Many of the armies camped at the base of the walls, Rohirrim and men of the South alike pleased to be considered some sort of heroes.  
  
At least, I assume they did.  
  
Food helped restore me, but it wasn't enough. Unless my reserves were restored as they had been in Lothlorien, I was going to be rather handicapped in what I could do against Sauron. Or maybe I just wasn't trying enough.  
  
My dreams of Frodo and Sam worried me, too. They were always so lost, unable to do anything except wearily travel road after dusty road.  
  
Even worse were the times I saw Mount Doom erupting, the fire and lava destroying the entire land of Mordor, Ithilien burning, forests turned to so much charred ash. Lava feelers creeping out to the banks of the Anduin, turning the water to boiling and sending great clouds of steam into the air.  
  
Ash fell in a rain over Minas Tirith, drowning it in grey as the people died from oxygen-deprivation.  
  
Over the plains of Rohan, fire fell, as thousands of tons of molten rock spewed into the air and traveled above the clouds.  
  
There was a certain malevolence to the dreams, as if something were trying to touch me, to scare me off. They merely pissed me off and made me wish I could actually have a hand in Sauron's death.  
  
I hadn't been allowed to kill Saruman, I figured I should be up for punching the card of the Ultimate Evil of Middle Earth.  
  
Gandalf awoke me from one of those dreams, and we made love, he almost desperate for the comfort of our bodies entwining. Then he left me again. Sleepy, I drifted off, to dreams filled with shadowy figures I couldn't kill until they'd destroyed all I loved. Waking for good was a blessing.  
  
Pippin seemed to have been watching me, and he smiled as I turned my head. "Water?"  
  
I nodded and he brought me a cup. It was wonderfully clear and refreshing. I drank it all, then sighed, "What's news?"  
  
He moved away and continued his interrupted task, packing a small bag. "We leave soon."  
  
"Where's the battle?"  
  
"Mordor."  
  
The name sent a shiver through my body, but I knew it had been inevitable. The end of a quest meant the end of an era, risking it all at the scene of great evil. Or Grated Evil. I wondered if Sauron was into cheese.  
  
"We march on the Black Gate to provide Sauron a focus away from Frodo and Sam."  
  
I nodded, "They're still alive, Pippin."  
  
He smiled at me, "Yes."  
  
"How long until we leave?"  
  
"The morning."  
  
I sighed. "Well, no time like the present for getting up." I got out of bed and stretched, body protesting lazily.  
  
Pippin's eyes went wide as he blushed then looked away. "You have a lot of scars, Marya."  
  
I yawned then blinked. I wasn't wearing a stitch. No wonder he'd blushed. "Sorry." I located my robe draped on the back of a chair and pulled it on. "The scars sort of come with the territory."  
  
He glanced at me again, still blushing, but relieved to see I was clothed, "Have you much to pack?"  
  
"Not really." I pulled open the clothes press and retrieved the dragon mail. Ruefully, I wondered if my blood-soaked battle clothes had been burned.  
  
"Well, I must go help pack up the tower guard." He smiled self-consciously, "I'm glad you're going with us."  
  
"So'm I." I said softly.  
  
After he'd gone I pulled the dragon mail on, glad it tended to keep itself clean. I'd forgotten to wash it when I washed myself, and dirty mail would have been... uncomfortable. I rummaged around until I found a shirt and trousers I could wear, and dragged them on. A sigh escaped me as I finally realised that something was missing. My weapons and harnesses.  
  
::All the leather work was repaired--some of it got burned off, remember?:: Alayna's voice was gentle.  
  
::Yeah. Sword?::  
  
::It's all down here with my tack. They seemed to think that was a good place to put it.::  
  
::Thanks.::  
  
::Sleep well?::  
  
::Yep. You?::  
  
::Of course. Even when you were all lusty and nightmared.:: She chuckled, ::I think I scared the stablehands a bit. They're not used to horses just sleeping for hours and hours without eating or moving. Gandalf explained it to them. Apparently, I'm an Elven Horse.::  
  
::The elves don't use horses.::  
  
::They don't know that.::  
  
I snorted. ::So we're a legend in our own time.::  
  
::Aren't we always?::  
  
::Sometimes.:: I wistfully considered a life of quiet anonimity.  
  
::Besides, there's a large circle of molten glass on the Pelennor. What do you think their response is?::  
  
Very true. ::I overdid it, didn't I.::  
  
::No. You did what you had to.::  
  
::Think I tipped our hand?::  
  
::Maybe. But Sauron already knew you were here.::  
  
::True.:: I finally found my boots and pulled them on, glad someone had been kind and cleaned them. My stomach rumbled and I realised I was starving. Food.  
  
::Try the kitchen. And come visit me. I'm bored.::  
  
I smiled, ::Yes, dear.::  
  
--  
  
::You look a hell of a lot better.:: Alayna observed as I stopped in front of her stall and unlatched the door.  
  
::Thank you.:: I stepped into her stall, curry comb in one hand. ::You, on the other hand, look a little shaggy.::  
  
::OOoooh. Brushes.:: She wriggled closer, eyes bright with anticipation.  
  
I chuckled and began brushing with long strokes. It was a moment of peace between battles, and I relished it. Every stroke and movement, every flake and bit of hair that lazily floated away on the late evening breeze. Almost idyllic in a way, we were in our own little corner of the world, and I cherished it.  
  
Too soon would it all end, we'd be back on the road, there would be more fighting and killing. Death. But right now, there was peace.  
  
::Harder. There's an itch there I haven't been able to get rid of.::  
  
Another chuckle escaped me, and I snorted, ::Wench.::  
  
::Y'know, I could kick you.::  
  
::I'd stop brushing.::  
  
::....point.::  
  
Silence fell again, the only sound brushes against hide and hair, and the occasional creak from my boots as I moved to get hard to reach places.  
  
--  
  
The armies of the Men of Gondor and the West set out at dawn. Grey light highlighted the depression so many of us felt. So many had fallen in the battle for Gondor, and more would fall at the Black Gate. It was enough to make a sane person curl up and cry.  
  
None of us were that sane, of course.  
  
I think Gimli was actually looking forward to the coming battle. Apparently, he hadn't had enough.  
  
For me, Helm's Deep had been the worst, but the Pelennor had been almost as bad. And the Morannon... I wasn't looking forward to it. Something told me I could die there.  
  
And while I'd just end up coming back to life, it would be painful.  
  
There was also something oddly disquieting about the land of Mordor, as if it awaited the approaching army, wishing to speak with us.  
  
I resolved to try talking to it once we were there. But first, we had to travel through the last vestiges of Gondor and Ithilien, the forest Frodo had met Faramir in.  
  
Reprovisioning myself at Gondor's expense had been vaguely amusing. I now had about ten knives, three quivers, a bow, and something that might have been a shield, once. There were also a few bags of food now hooked to Alayna's saddle. One of water, another of firewood and a pot. We could strike out on our own and camp for a month.  
  
As the column passed, I waited for the end. I figured it was the best place for me, for now. The size of the army startled me as I fell in with the rearguard. Had there been this many men on the field of the Pelennor that last day? Or had more been found somewhere? Perhaps we might win the day.  
  
"My lady!" The voice came from the right, and I blinked.  
  
"Phred! I'm glad to see you." Alayna trotted to his side without my urging. "How are you?"  
  
"You are here. All is well." He smiled.  
  
It wasn't a fatuous smile, or one of hero-worship. It was more comrade to comrade, and I felt comforted by it and smiled back. All was probably not well, but I didn't feel like disabusing him of that notion. For a moment, I was reminded of Vin. And I saw his head held high, triumphantly, the pike running through it sticky with his blood. I fought off the vision and asked a question I'd considered earlier, wondering the answer. "How has fared the company from Osgiliath?"  
  
"Most survived." He grimaced, "I believe we are the only two not left behind due to injuries."  
  
I considered this, suddenly struck with amusement. "Has anyone, um, actually mentioned the state Osgiliath is in to our commanders?"  
  
One of the other men riding nearby snorted. "There's talk it's been destroyed." He eyed me, "By you, or Sauron himself. I say either theory is mere speculation, and rubbish."  
  
Phred stared at him, then glanced at me, and both of us laughed. Others in the back of the column turned to stare at us, and I lost it completely, doubling over in the saddle and letting loose great mirth. Hysterical, almost.  
  
When I finally calmed down, I gestured towards the front of the line. "I suppose we should tell them."  
  
"Eventually," Phred agreed. "Or maybe not until after they have viewed it for themselves."  
  
I considered this, trying to remember my last images of Osgiliath. Flames, conflagration, explosions... Possibly molten lava, depending on how hot some of it had gotten. Could be rather interesting looking now. "Good plan. We'll tell them when we're closer."  
  
He nodded, "And, meanwhile, we ride together."  
  
There were so many ways I could have taken that. But I left it, and reached down to retrieve an apple from a saddle bag. I ate as we rode, slowly letting my mind drift as the sun bore down on us. It was warm sunlight, and I began to bask in the heat that baked into my skin and bones. Happily, the dragon-mail *likes* sunlight, and has the capacity to suck it in and store it.  
  
Slowly, the troop made its way through the vestiges of Gondor. The Causeway Forts were passed and a few were left to begin restoring them to operation. Next would be Osgiliath, and I considered that should Gandalf see it before I told him of its state, he might be unhappy. To say the least. Of course, he'd probably be unhappy anyway. I could just stay hidden and avoid his wrath. Glancing around, I realised we had little time left before we would get there, and to tell them now would be best.  
  
"Come, Phred, I think we should inform them."  
  
The captain hrmphed. "He is under my command."  
  
I looked at him, "One of Imrahil's, aren't you."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, I'll have a page come back to clear things completely, but this man fought beside me at Osgiliath. He comes with me." I waved an airy hand, "I'm the Lady Rainbow Luthien, and I command it so."  
  
Before he could answer, I rode off, Phred following. He was chuckling again.  
  
--  
  
The column was mainly foot, with some light horse mixed in here and there. The horse were from Rohan, the Rohirrim, some 500 proud. The foot were a combination of Gondor, Imrahil's troops, the Lassarnach, and various others called to the purpose. I suspected they were from father south, possibly recruited by Aragorn.  
  
As we rode past, I saw swift glances at us. I didn't blame them, Alayna *is* bright green.  
  
But the occasional muttered comments weren't quite so complimentary.  
  
::Heheheheheh. They're calling you the White Wizard's Whore. I could dine out on that for weeks.:: Alayna sounded smugly amused.  
  
I snorted and ignored them all, head high as we slowly passed them by.  
  
We finally neared the head of the column, and I took a long look at the group riding there. Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, and Gandalf I knew. The others, I didn't. One had to be Prince Imrahil, but of the rest I could only vaguely guess. Probably commanders of the various companies which marched behind.  
  
All that glittering male dominance should have paused me. But I was on a mission. Besides, estrogen is my friend.  
  
Sadly, it did pause Phred, I left him and continued alone towards the majesty.  
  
Aragorn saw me first, and seemed startled, "My lady?"  
  
I pointed down the road to where the river could be seen now as a glittering ribbon. "Hi. I don't suppose anyone's mentioned to any of you what shape Osgiliath is in?"  
  
He blinked at me, "Shape?"  
  
"Yeah. It's, uh, kind of... destroyed."  
  
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me while the others sort of stopped and stared. "What did you do?"  
  
"Um... A few minor fire spells..." I tried for an innocent look.  
  
"Which did what, precisely." He suddenly sounded very White Wizardy.  
  
I felt like a chastised child for some reason, and ducked my head to stare at my hands on the cantle. "Turned it to charred rubble." I mumbled in answer. I grinned suddenly, "It all matches up now."  
  
"Dare I ask how?"  
  
"It's all rubble," I explained.  
  
Gandalf blinked at me. "This should be... amusing, I suspect."  
  
I shrugged. "Probably." 


	21. Rick Steves' Minas Morgul

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-One: Rick Steves' Minas Morgul  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
It wasn't. Amusing, that is.  
  
The army gathered on the west bank, inside Osgiliath, and studied the opposite bank from the battlements. Between both sides, the river flowed bright and shining in the afternoon light. Where before both sides had seemed the same, one half was now blackened and dark. The white stone burnt to a crisp by fire hot as lava.  
  
I studied it while the commanders milled around each other. They were startled by the destruction. Save Gandalf and Aragorn, of course. The two of them knew me, after all.  
  
Sadness touched me as I realised the whole would have to be razed and then rebuilt from the ground up. Stone that had stood guard for centuries was now quickly dying into ash.  
  
Patting the crenellations in front of me, I whispered, "I am so sorry."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
I jerked around, meeting the gaze of one of the lords. I half-shrugged, "Possibly, my lord."  
  
"Lord Feanor," He offered, suddenly smiling. "I believe it was the gods which have sent you to us, Lady Luthien. I thank them heartily for it."  
  
"Don't." I raised a hand, heart-sick at the destruction and death still to come. "Let the days pass, first. And then, on the day we celebrate, then, thank them."  
  
He nodded slowly, "As you wish."  
  
I turned and studied the river again as the troops slowly made sure of the fortress. After all, there were a few orcs which had escaped our fierce battle. No need to be killed when we thought ourselves safe.  
  
Across it, the ruins of Osgiliath East sat quietly, as if awaiting something. Since we had destroyed the bridge, it would wait a bit longer while wagons and other bits of wood were turned into a bridge on the bridge.  
  
::Oh, very funny. I forgot to laugh, of course.::  
  
::Hush.::  
  
The orcs who had escaped had set free their own workings. Shortly thereafter, the column began crossing the river.  
  
Alayna and I stayed on the near bank to steady the horses, so they were calm on the bridge. It wouldn't do to have one panic, it could take out the entire temporary span. We had our hands full. Scouts had been sent to secure the east side of Osgiliath. Shadowfax and Gandalf were there as well, reassuring them as they reached that bank.  
  
Once everyone was on the other side, we were all able to direct our attention to Osgiliath east. Well, of course we had to, considering we traveled through it to get to the road. Many stared at it in surprise, the late afternoon light turning the obsidian walls and rubble to firey red stone. I admired the effect, and wondered if it was because the fire had gotten as hot as the inside of a volcano. I also felt less guilty.  
  
::Hrm. Possibly one of your better fire spells.::  
  
::Fire? Bah. Volcano!::  
  
::You didn't know that 'till now.:: She pointed out silkily.  
  
Scouts were sent into Osgiliath, to take control as had been done at the Forts. I ignored Alayna and wondered what their report would sound like.  
  
::"That crazy sorceress destroyed a perfectly usable fortress!"::  
  
I laughed, and was sent a few disturbed looks which I also ignored. ::Probably.::  
  
Phred wandered up to me, looking vaguely lost.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I've been assigned to you by the Rohirrim."  
  
My eyebrows raised, "They're in charge?"  
  
"Mutual decision, I think." He shook his head at me, "My lady, you are so innocent seeming."  
  
"Illusion." I replied. We rode in silence, then. Ahead of us, the mountains of Shadow slowly came closer. Unrest began filtering through the column, even though we rode through the forest of Ithilien, the branches gently peaceful.  
  
Five miles beyond Osgiliath, the foot companies halted for the night. Those of us on horseback continued onwards. Shortly thereafter we came to a cross-roads. Aragorn sent men north and south, east and west, calling the coming of the army of the men of the west. A small garrison was also positioned there. Then we went on.  
  
Eventually, the way to the Morgul Vale appeared, and there was a discussion which led to a small group setting out for it. I slipped into it, gesturing Phred to stay behind. We didn't go far, Gandalf arguing strenuously against alerting the Nazgul to the presence of the army.  
  
I studied the distant Citadel of the Nazgul. Evil emenated from it, born of decay and long suffering. Deeply hidden, though, I sensed the structure's original intent--to revere the moon and provide a light in the darkness. I wasn't sure who had told me that, once.  
  
After setting fire to the fields around the silent citadel, the others prepared to move off; I caught Aragorn's arm, "Continue on. I shall follow with due haste shortly."  
  
He studied me a moment, then nodded. "Make haste, Lady Rainbow. The fires may be upon you shortly."  
  
I half-smiled. And they left, heading north to possible doom--leaving Certain Doom behind.  
  
I inspected the approaching fire, then set a careful shield, shifting it to a different path. Now the section of field I stood in would be safe for several hours. A moment later, silence and darkness reached an odd balance with the soft crackling of the burning grasslands. Then I sat down cross-legged in the center of it and began slowly weaving. Alayna flopped down behind me with a sigh, and I leant against her side.  
  
The trance was gently achieved and I spun for a moment inside my own head before stepping outwards, heading towards Minas Morgul as a tiny speck of dust. If someone had been watching the area with Mage Sight, they might have seen occasional out of sync images of me walking through the burning field.  
  
I threaded into the stones, first. Finding the memories of light and life, tying them together in gossamer webs of energy nearly undetectable to the sorcerer's eye. It wasn't difficult, but it did take time as I meticulously went into each and every bit of rock, from the dust on the floor in a chamber at the bottom of the massive city to the uppermost piece of igneous matter that reached for the sky above.  
  
An hour passed, two, and I was at the top, finished with this moment in time recreation spell. I pondered it for a moment, then made sure I hadn't managed to set it to resurrect anyone. That could be sticky.  
  
The last time I'd done this spell, I'd sort of forgotten that part. The result hadn't been pretty. Though it had been vaguely amusing.  
  
Once finished with that check, I turned to the task of cleaning the place. It was huge, so I decided to go with the basics. Embroidering upon the spell-weave already there, I called water, soap, bleach and some lemon juice. It would cascade through, scouring at the muck as it swirled down to the bottom where it would disappear back to whence it came.  
  
It would be followed with scalding heat, the sands and winds of a desert I'd once known scowering the remnants of decay from the bones of the citadel.  
  
But it wouldn't be enough. I paused as the third hour drew to a close, and pondered my options. To my inner eye, the web covered nearly every molecule with a luminous, happy glow. It was in several colours ranging from purple to bright green.  
  
Decisively, I began cross-stitching a patchwork of conversion death spells though the structure. Death layered into light as the dying were struck from the very soul of the world. I was tampering with things I shouldn't, but this land demanded cleansing, and this was the only way to do it.  
  
Two hours slipped away while the hook of my mind intertwined the last of these many spells into one masterful whole. Light gleamed at me, so many colours now that some had no name and merely existed as the colours of magic.  
  
Finally, it was finished. One final connection of strands and the place would light up like the christmas tree in Time's Square. The cascade would begin, unstoppable in its wrath as it tore through the evil, obliterating it utterly.  
  
I studied the last strand and smiled. It was a simple matter to attach the strands in my mind. Like a switch, I would merely have to blink and the conflagration would begin.  
  
As a distraction for Sauron it would be wonderfully useful.  
  
I unwove myself from the trance and slowly opened my eyes. For a moment, there was a sense of peace around me. Then exhaustion hit followed by ravenous hunger. With as small an amount of movement as I could, I pulled a packet of lembas from Alayna's saddlebags.  
  
Several mouthfuls improved my condition enough to allow me to slowly clamber into the saddle. I strapped myself in, yawning as Alayna stood gracefully. I'd sleep. Hopefully, we'd catch them up soon.  
  
Around us, the fires had burned low. The fields were gone, except for that small circle wherein I had laid the spells to seal doom in its place. 


	22. Edging Into Oblivion

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-Two: Edging Into Oblivion  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
We traveled through forest, and then dank lands. I began storing everything up, centering my reserves deep, so that I would have them at need.  
  
There was nothing left of me, then. My entire being spilled out for war, death and destruction. So much pain and darkness slithered in, pushing for release. For surcease.  
  
And there was nothing I could do about it. All my months in this land, the travels I'd been on. They had worn me to the bone.  
  
I was nothing but destruction. Even the cleansing spells set to cascade through Minas Morgul were tainted with death. Sleep helped, except the dreams didn't.  
  
They followed me, chasing worse and worse images around my nights. As if every dark future were all that was left. And they ALL wanted me to wake the fuck up and smell the death. All I'd done, all I would do would be as a grain of sand against a supernova.  
  
Something had gone wrong, somewhere.  
  
It infuriated me. I'd let good people get injured, or die horribly. If I had destroyed the Witch-King myself--hell, if I had gone after Sauron in the beginning... But that had never been Fate's plan. Or Destiny's, though I wasn't sure who was in charge now.  
  
As much as I'd fought and kicked and screamed, I still followed a set plan, a predestined path.  
  
And it was still going wrong.  
  
My dreams of Frodo and Sam showed them in danger again and again. What if I had gone with them? I could have saved them from such pain and privation. The quest should have been mine, the pain mine to absorb.  
  
Instead, I fought armies and marched to the death of a world.  
  
The armies of the men of the West marched on Mordor, bound for the plain in front of the gates in the Morannon. A plain they would never survive. Not unless everything went right. And my dreams were saying everything was fucked in the head.  
  
"My lady?"  
  
I jerked, Aragorn's voice startling me out of my increasingly depressing thoughts. I turned to him, away from the bleak view to the north. "Yes?"  
  
He nodded, as if my pre-occupation had confirmed something. "You worry we will fail."  
  
I looked away, eyes filling with images of the land around us burning. He waited, patient as the rock that held his people together. I sighed. "Yes."  
  
"Many will not survive the coming battle."  
  
"No. They won't."  
  
"We may fail in our last hour and lose the war to save the world from an evil that has festered."  
  
"Sauron has waited beyond comprehension for events to fall out in his favour," I said softly. "This turn of the wheel has become dark."  
  
He nodded again. "You believe it will all go his way."  
  
"I--" I stopped, mouth open. If I answered truly, I was giving in. Fate would triumph, smug in its mastery over this world. And me. I had dangled on its hook for far too long. There would be an ending. Anger flashed through me--at myself. I had bought it all, hook, line and sinker. "No."  
  
Aragorn half-smiled at me. "Good."  
  
I blinked. Recognising that he was treating me as one of his troops. I had needed something and he'd come over to help. "Thank you." I was really not used to being on the receiving end of that sort of thing.  
  
He handed me an apple. "We'll be starting our march again shortly. Rest."  
  
I watched him go, then, impressed despite myself. Aragorn was more than he had ever been. He was the King in deed as well as lineage.  
  
::Oooh. Apple.::  
  
Snorting, I glared towards where Alayna was tethered with the other mounts. ::Mine. Bitch.::  
  
::What?::  
  
::You could have *said* something.::  
  
::But it's so fun to watch you squirm.::  
  
I hehed. And bit into the apple. Juice spurted and tried to drip down my fingers. I caught it and licked the sweet liquid from my fingers.  
  
--  
  
We camped that night in a fairly sheltered section of the road, the army spreading out for nigh on a league to both ends. I curled by myself by one of the fires for a time. But I couldn't sleep. It wasn't a feeling of dread or even worry. But I was cold and suddenly lonely, aching for the comfort of another body. So I stood and made my way away from the warmth of my fire. I searched for a short time until I came upon Gandalf, standing at the northernmost edge of the camp, eyes watching the dark.  
  
He was cold, and so I went to him, wrapping my arms around him from behind, vaguely irritated that the folds of his white garments were in my way. Under my hands his body went from marble to skin, and I smiled.  
  
A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest and I butted my head at his shoulder, then relaxed. "No rest for the wicked?" He was mocking the both of us, I thought.  
  
"Lonely," I replied.  
  
"Ah."  
  
For a time we stood there, he gazing out into the dark, eyes searching the shadows. I with my cheek against his back. We breathed in and out as one, content in our nearness. Until my knees began to protest the long standing.  
  
"Come to bed, old man."  
  
He turned in my arms, and I was struck by the utter exhaustion in his face. "Yes."  
  
I kissed him, then stepped back. "The world will keep for a night, my love."  
  
A sardonic eyebrow was raised at me, "Are we both so arrogant?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
He followed me, then, offering no more resistance. We lay by the fire, curling around each other like tired kittens, our cloaks sheltering us. I gave a contented sigh and fell down into the darkness of sleep.  
  
And dreamt.  
  
The camp again, the stars above it shimmering with a cold white light. I walked past the too-still bodies of my comrades and the troops of this army of madmen. Gandalf was standing where I'd found him before, back to me, white cape flowing gently in a cold wind.  
  
Instinct tugged at me and I shrugged it off, wrapping my arms around him from behind again.  
  
He said nothing, and I sighed. "Come to bed, old man."  
  
The marble remained unmoving, and something made me look closer at the threads of his cloak. They were the colours of the rainbow, and my startled gasp made him laugh with madness.  
  
I jerked away, but it was too late, and Saruman gazed at me, his hands closing around my throat. "Come now, Lady Rainbow, surely you appreciate all I have done for you."  
  
"No." I tried to say it, but there was no breath left, nothing but a sick sense of urgency. I struggled, clawing at the hands and fingers locked around my throat. The world began spiraling, and my knees buckled. Dizzy, I fell, my knees impacting the earth with a suddenness that jerked us apart.  
  
I smashed out towards wakefulness and came to with a gasp, sitting up and scrambling out of my warm coccoon. Gandalf was too far asleep to notice my movements and I pulled on my boots, instinctively grabbing my sword belt as I ran from our cozy spot to the edge of the camp.  
  
There I lost the contents of my dinner, the utter horror and dread filling me with sickness. That I could have thought for an instant-- Saruman. I retched again, feeling tainted to have touched him, even if only in my dreams.  
  
"My lady?"  
  
Controlling myself, I straightened, staring up at the guardsman who was hovering near me, uncertain. "I'm fine. Just... Dinner didn't agree with me."  
  
"Ah." But he looked uncertain.  
  
I stood and buckled my swordbelt on, "I'll stay here with you for a time, just to make certain it's settled."  
  
He nodded, apparently remembering sisters or a mother who had had a similar problem at some point. Perhaps the rumour would go around that I was pregnant. I was amused at the thought, but wouldn't mind.  
  
We watched the night in silence, both lost in our thoughts. Eventually, the guard changed, and I continued to stare out, as Gandalf had.  
  
I was watching the western flank, eyes seeing nothing, mind drifting. I would not be able to sleep again, and wasn't sure I wanted to. Dreams, nightmares... Nothing would be restful.  
  
"My lady?"  
  
The hesitant tones of the guard pulled me from myself and I looked at him, "Yes?"  
  
He coughed, "I do not wish, that is--we will fall, won't we."  
  
Not a question. I considered it, "Possibly. I believe... I think, that many will fall, many will die. But... To not fight against such evil as this land holds, that would be wrong. For your children and their children after them, I suspect we are doing the only thing we can."  
  
Would that it would be enough.  
  
But he nodded, as if what I had said confirmed something in his mind. "Exactly so, my lady. Exactly."  
  
I turned abruptly, not wishing to garner another hero-worshipper. And something flickered in the corner of my eye, I was facing back, sword in my hand, breath freezing in my throat.  
  
There was nothing there.  
  
"My lady?"  
  
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I stiffened. "Wake the camp. Now."  
  
"I don't--"  
  
He never had a chance, the sword swinging silently from the darkness, slicing him in half even as I reacted, throat tearing as I screamed, "To arms, men of Gondor, to arms!"  
  
Gandalf was awake an instant later. ::What--::  
  
::Light. Now.:: I didn't have time for more, hands and arms already wet with the blood of whatever was attacking us as I fought to keep the camp from dissolving into the total chaos of slaughter.  
  
Brilliant light, brighter than the sun shattered the night, and I could see our attackers fully for the first time.  
  
They were beasts out of a nightmare, twisted, mishapen things that had no business even existing much less breathing my air and befouling this plane of existence. With a cry that was more curse, I threw myself at them, sword and knife making quick work, slicing, tearing, kicking, and then I was out the other side of them. For a moment, I paused.  
  
Something about these creatures was familiar, they were patchworks. A piece of this, a piece of that, as if some deranged scientist had melded lions to giraffes, then patched on a bit of rhinocerous, and a lot of lizard. And opposable thumbs. The hands were almost delicate, but strong in a sinewy way.  
  
I shoved that to the side, and turned back, cleaving deeply, nearly slipping on the viscera beneath my feet. The men of Gondor fought as well, brave despite their rude awakening and the strangeness of their foes.  
  
And suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, it was over, the last few of the creatures screaming as they died, their cries causing my skin to crawl as I drove the blade of my sword home for the last time.  
  
The adrenaline surge that had sustained me until then began fading and I staggered as I stepped back into camp.  
  
"Marya!" Pippin was there, concern in his eyes. "You're hurt!"  
  
"No." I tried to smile, "Just tired, my friend."  
  
Aragorn came towards us, "My lady, many thanks. Without your alarm, they would have had us."  
  
And without my dragging Gandalf to bed, he would have been awake to deal with them. I remembered the young guardsman and felt suddenly sickened. He had died because I was lonely. Something in my eyes must have caught Gandalf's attention, because he touched my arm. "This is not your fault."  
  
"Isn't it?" Bitterness tinged my tone, and I fought it, suddenly tired of feeling sorry for myself.  
  
"No."  
  
"Lord Gandalf, does this mean the Dark Lord has found us?" It was one of the other commanders, Prince Imrahil, possibly, I thought.  
  
"I do not--"  
  
"No." I interrupted him. "It doesn't." I moved, kneeling over the body of one of the creatures, and came up with a small medallion.  
  
"Saruman." Aragorn hissed.  
  
"Yes." I waved a hand, "He was taken with experimentation, I see. First the Uruk-Hai, now these." I studied them, feeling sad. "This was probably his last-ditch attempt to put himself back in you-know-who's graces."  
  
"But," said Lord Feanor; a tall man, his dark hair plaited neatly from his face, his beard diagonally sliced as if someone had tried to shave him with an axe. "Does this not mean that the Dark Lord knows our whereabouts?"  
  
I laughed, the sound not even remotely amused. "I suspect *he's* known where we are since before we left Minas Tirith. Don't fool yourself, gentlemen. Dr. Evil won't kill us until he's good and ready. Sitting ducks on the Dagorlad are much preferable to moving ferrets under his mountains." 


	23. Ladies and Gentlemen, Presenting: Sauron...

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-Three: Ladies and Gentlemen, Presenting: Sauron the Magnificent!  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
There were more days on the road, but they faded into one another, and I was too weary to recall them later on.  
  
The only real moment I recall is part of the army running in terror from certain death. Perhaps retreating quickly would be a kinder explanation. I couldn't blame them. Neither could Aragorn. He sent them to bolster the forces at Cair Andros, and we continued onwards to our destiny.  
  
Our company came at last to the Black Gate. My dreams had not prepared me for the bulk of it, and I stared at the gates of the Morannon, stunned by the sheer size. The amount of power needed to make them must have been astronomical. Later, I decided, I would ask Gandalf about them.  
  
We had marched all night to come at them from the north and west, rather than the south. Aragorn seemed determined to avoid the eastern foothills and I wondered what experience he'd had there. Hills that appeared to be built out of festering corpses and what could be garbage. Broken crockery mixed with bodily waste and the last mouldy scraps not even the goblins would touch began to arch to either side.  
  
The wind was thankfully not blowing off of them.  
  
And real hills appeared on the edge of the Dagorlad. Ancient burial mounds was my guess. ::Stone. Broken mortar.:: Alayna said absently as the captains met on the apex of one. ::Probably left over from the original building of the Teeth.::  
  
::The huh?::  
  
::It's the battlements. Those towers on either side of the gate. Lower vampiric canines.::  
  
::How poetic. Wil must be rolling in his grave.::  
  
::Ignorant wench.:: She replied cheerfully.  
  
::Wretch.:: I reached out and scratched at the base of her mane. ::How did you know?::  
  
She arched her neck and could have purred. ::Asked Gandalf.::  
  
::...::  
  
A mental snicker echoed through the air.  
  
::The hell? Alayna, darling--::  
  
::No worries. He seems cool with it. Besides, I had to mention the ass-kicking he'd get if he hurt you.::  
  
::Awww.:: I leaned over and hugged her.  
  
::Don't get mushy, you still have to leave him.::  
  
::I know.::  
  
We were both silent, then, watching the army spread itself out in preparation for the battle to come. Phred wandered to our side and watched with us.  
  
"What do you think, Marya?" Phred asked me, his breath streaming out into the air and frosting over.  
  
It was an interesting phenomenon. Perhaps a result of the death and evil that roamed around under the cracks in the ground. Ghosts, possibly.  
  
::Who ya gonna call?::  
  
::That is the operative question at work here, is it not?::  
  
"We might win." I allowed.  
  
"Might?"  
  
"Ok." I half-grinned, "We will win."  
  
"Do you foresee the outcome so easily, milady?" He studied me with wise eyes.  
  
"I foresee you in twenty years dandling a grandchild on one knee while your children range around you," I replied, feeling filled with an odd certainty. "Phred, I think--I think you will survive this. Gondor will survive. Above that, I cannot truly say."  
  
He nodded, "Just so, Milady. Just so."  
  
We fell silent, after that.  
  
Finally, all seemed ready. And Aragorn set trumpeters and heralds. And their voices rang out hollowly through the surrounding area. A sort of sick feeling went through me: dread. Perhaps more than dread. For despite my words to Phred, I could see the death of everything we had strived for coming, and the balance that it hung by was so tiny, so given to shift and change...  
  
"Marya?"  
  
I jerked myself back from that precipice of hopelessness and grinned lopsidedly at Phred. "Yes."  
  
And the silence which had settled after the trumpetings was broken by loud drumming, rolling around us as if driven. And perhaps it was. I closed my eyes for an instant, then opened them to find the middle door of the Black Gate had been thrown open. An embassy emerged.  
  
The head of this assemblage was a rather large man, his body clad in pure-black-tarnished steel. I eyed the beast he rode, and wondered if its lineage included the creatures the Nazgul flew upon.  
  
"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" His voice was mocking and almost lifeless. "Or, indeed, with wit to understand me?" He eyed Aragorn, and his lips curved, the teeth beneath gleaming oddly, "Not thou, at least. It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this."  
  
I nearly broke in at that, considering mocking him back, but I knew that it was not my time. This was Aragorn's moment. And he won it keenly, meeting the eyes of his harasser and giving back nought for scorn.  
  
The mouthpiece of Sauron broke eye contact first, leaning away as if expecting a blow. And he turned craven, as well, crying out, "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!"  
  
"Yeah, right." I muttered.  
  
Phred snorted softly.  
  
"He's an idiot," I said, ignoring the continuing dialogue between the messenger and Gandalf and Aragorn. "As if we'd believe anything his lord and master would wish us to hear. Pfaugh, I say."  
  
"M'lady speaks well," Phred replied, his eyes twinkling at me.  
  
"Yeah." I frowned, then, eyeing the bundle of cloth the 'ambassador' was presenting as proof of the capture of a spy. And with horror I recognised the same clasp that Galadriel had gifted Gandalf and I with. Frodo's mithril was also there. "Frodo..." But, no. I could still feel him, that strange twist of a tie between us. And Sam as well. They lived, but for how long? And would knowing they were alive help Sauron's cause?  
  
It would, I realised an instant later. Pippin sprang forward with a cry of grief. There was sadness and despair emenating from Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli was stoic. And Gandalf--there was a terrible sense of something from him. What, I did not wish to know.  
  
"Silence," Gandalf shoved Pippin back.  
  
"So, you have another of these imps with you!" The man laughed, and I sensed his amusement was half-pretense. "And, I say to you. Sauron does not love spies, and what your little Shire-rat's fate may be has yet to be determined."  
  
I closed my eyes, then opened them, angry at the grief and pain this idiot was causing. "My lords," I said lazily, my voice ringing against the walls of the Morannon. "Do you listen to this liar and behemoth of iniquity, and take what he speaks as true?" My scorn dripped from my lips. I didn't have to nudge, Alayna moved forwards, silent even on the stone underfoot.  
  
"Sullen words from a woman who should be better silent," The man returned, angry gaze meeting mine. Then his lips curled cruelly. "Still, I think we shall make you a part of the terms. For the release of our prisoner, I shall tell you what--"  
  
"No, no, no," Shaking my head, I shouldered past the honor-guard about the leaders of the West. "This is very pathetic. Is this all you have to offer?"  
  
He drew himself up, "That may cost you an arm, my *lady*. Now, the--"  
  
I raised my hand. "Talk to the hand, dumbass, 'cause the face ain't listenin'."  
  
::...So, when were you a fly girl?::  
  
Before the mouthpiece could recover from his outrage, I laughed. The sound belled outwards, ringing against the surrounding hills and walls, the mail and armour, and the helms of the company that had approached us. "You are like insignificant worms." I paused. "Y'know, I've always wanted to say that."  
  
Gandalf caught my arm in a vice-like grip, his face pale. "Silence yourself, woman."  
  
"Never." I twisted free, then turned and smacked a kiss across his lips. "For one thing, talk is cheaper than blood."  
  
A sound pierced the sky, a whistling noise that made the hair on the back of my neck stand fast. There was no other warning than that. Magic shrilled along my nerves and a lance of power slammed into the paving in between our two parties. Sauron was impatient. I ignored it as the horses around Alayna and I bucked and danced, shying away from the bits of flaming stone.  
  
"Is that the best you can do?" I asked the mouthpiece conversationally, riding towards him directly over the still-smoking patch of ground. "Because. Really? It's pathetic."  
  
Without waiting for his reply, I drew level and plucked the bundle of clothing from him. "I think this belongs to us. Why don't you go back to your master and tell him that the men of the West wish to speak to him. And him alone."  
  
He reached out for me, and I dodged backwards, giggling. "Not so fast, Romeo. Besides," I wrinkled my nose. "You need a bath."  
  
A twist of power into the air, a soft command, and a shower of soapy water with lemon juice cascaded over the mouthpiece of Sauron. Alayna laughed in my head, the amusement coloured orange with maliciousness.  
  
And something grabbed at me, reaching out frantically as if screaming for help. I reeled, nearly falling from the saddle as the world devolved into the utter chaos of battle. Or perhaps I'd lost time. It made more sense, because Pippin was missing, Aragorn and the leaders were standing on one of the hills watching the commotion. And I must have frozen--this was wrong. It felt wrong.  
  
Why was I sitting still as a statue while people died around me?  
  
Sound smashed into me, then, men and creatures screaming as they died and fought. There was mud under their feet churned with the blood of those already dead or dying. Under Alayna's hooves.  
  
Reality snapped into place, and we moved, smashing into the cave troll advancing towards a grouping of infantry. "Back!" I cried, standing in the saddle and swinging. My sword cleaved through armour into tough hide, the weight of the creature falling forwards. Alayna danced backwards, taking me with her. I sat down abruptly into the saddle again, sword held out and dripping with dark blood.  
  
::Duck.::  
  
The massive fist would have taken my head off, but the creature was down, dying as the infantry surged onto it, burying it beneath them in a frenzy of stabbing.  
  
Clockwork, then, well-oiled machine. Or was it blood that moved the gears around as we fought and killed, until both of us were coated in things not meant to see.  
  
At some point, I dove from the saddle, and stood back to back with Eomer. Then he and Aragorn ranged off and I was alone again, Alayna disported herself amongst the orcs where she didn't have to worry about losing her rider.  
  
I dodged an arrow, its feathers skimming my left ear. A knife took out the bowman and I moved on. From the south I suddenly sensed something--Frodo and Sam and someone else. A battle of good, evil, magic and Destiny. I hate Destiny. And Sauron was noticing it, turning to it like a giant behemoth surprised by a tiny dolphin at its side.  
  
His realising what was going on was not supposed to happen. The battle commencing so far from me needed to finish without the evil man's interference. A distraction was required.  
  
With a devilish grin I gutted the orc in front of me, using its death to fuel the closing of the circuit that hung over Minas Morgul.  
  
For a moment, silence reigned across the magical plain. A single solitary moment of peace and quiet that probably felt wonderful to any tapped into it. And then the other shoe dropped.  
  
The power woven into Minas Morgul blazed out in a flash more brilliant than the sun as it tore through, reweaving the fabric of the citadel as I'd commanded it to do so. And Sauron took the bait. He turned away from the slopes of Mount Doom, and focused his mind further afield, towards the city of his Nazgul.  
  
I smirked as I spun and decapitated the man about to club me. And the ground under my legs rolled, buckling my knees and dropping me unceremoniously onto my face.  
  
A desperate reaching shrieking thing clawed into my mind, crying for release and I recoiled, jerking to my knees under the onslaught. "My brain." I snapped, pulling my shields tightly around my mind. The dirt I knelt in *moved* and I realised what had cried out, what I was touching. What had stolen time from me minutes--hours?-- before.  
  
Mordor itself wanted rid of its despot. The land craved release and cleansing.  
  
And there was no time. It was as if a switch had been thrown. I was seeing through a hundred thousand different eyes, or perhaps only three.  
  
Frodo was inside Mount Doom. The Ring would be destroyed. Gollum would join Destiny.  
  
I was on my feet and running, then, blind to anything but the Black Gate. I had to reach it, before--  
  
The first blast of Wild Magic knocked me off my feet and I skidded into an orc. He died, not even realising my presence. I scrabbled forward again, intent on the centre of the gates.  
  
And then I stood between the sides of the gate before the Morannon. The very air vibrated and I ran my palm along my sword blade, knowing blood must seal what would come. It wasn't a long wait, barely a millisecond. A tiny moment, but it stretched into infinity as my blood started to flow, as Gollum fell into the fires of Mount Doom, the Ring suddenly becoming consumed by its creating fire. Consumed into its own destruction.  
  
Magic rolled outwards, expanding in huge concentric circles, slamming along the magical planes and destroying everything in its path. Evil magic, death and destruction at its core, its beginning.  
  
Sauron was trying to take the world with him as he died.  
  
I swung diagonally, mind and sword cleaving the air in ragged diagonal stripes, delving in-between the spaces of magic. The circle fractured, the magic scattering in a suddenly random pattern. My other hand caught at the pieces, sucking them in and spitting them out again in a woven whole. Fast, so fast, I had to be. Because there was no time in this moment between moments.  
  
Four hands wouldn't have been fast enough, but I held on, pouring the magic back into the land and sky, the trees which suddenly appeared in one wave. The birds, the flowers--I poured and wove, dissolving tens of thousands of centuries in one tiny moment of exploding tapestry.  
  
I fell, magic flowing in and out of me as I shaped the weft and line into what I willed. What the land demanded.  
  
And when there was no more thread and no more time, when all the random bits had found a better place, I thrust my sword into the ground to the hilts and curled around it as the world went black.  
  
My last thought was that, today, Mordor felt like daisies. 


	24. Dropping the Other Shoe

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-Four: Dropping the Other Shoe  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
There is a high possibility that I died there, between the open gates of the Morannon. I had certainly spent everything and more to restore Mordor to what it should have been.  
  
I woke up feeling dead enough.  
  
My first thought was that daisies should not smell like horse.  
  
::Shut up. Be glad someone's watching your back. Altruistic idiot.::  
  
My second was that Alayna sounded rather worried.  
  
::Pippin's missing.::  
  
That dragged me fully awake and I opened my eyes to late evening sunlight. I was lying where I'd fallen, my hand cramped tightly around my sword hilt. I hissed as I opened it, wondering if it would ever not hurt. ::Gonna miss that sword.::  
  
::So pull it out.::  
  
::Can't--part of the Trans-spell--it was all I had. In time no one will ever know it's here.::  
  
::'k. Pippin.::  
  
I reached for a stirrup and tried to stand.  
  
Tried being the operative word.  
  
Sickness wrapped around my stomach in a knot, and I curled around it, whimpering softly. ::Gonna haveta kneel.::  
  
::Baby.::  
  
::You try--fuck.:: I rolled, trying to get off my back, and onto my side as the contents of my stomach finished rebelling and crawled up my throat. I hit the daisies, but I guess they'll survive.  
  
Alayna settled on my other side, grumbling. I wiped a sleeve across my mouth then scrambled into the saddle. Well. Sort of scrambled.  
  
Once I was sort of secure, she stood. The world tilted alarmingly, and I closed my eyes. ::Where was he last?::  
  
::This way.::  
  
I felt her moving gently, and cracked one eye to watch. We were moving over the field, Alayna stepping daintily over dead bodies. There were apparently still small skirmishes going on here and there, but mostly there were people recovering from what had felt like certain death.  
  
She stopped near the hill the commanders had been using. ::Here.::  
  
I opened my eyes completely, wondering if I had a concussion, since the world seemed to come in more than one size. Bodies littered the ground around the hill. Mostly orcs, but also some of our men, a horse or two, and a cave troll. Its massive torso was split nearly in two where it lay. I stared at it, reaching out for that elusive 'Pippin' thread. "He's under the troll." I whispered, glad to find my voice still worked, even if I sounded horribly frightened.  
  
Because there was no way in hell I was in any shape to remove the troll from my friend. And he was slowly dying underneath it.  
  
A sound caused me to jerk to my right, and I nearly lost what was in my stomach--a lot of air. A soldier stood there, surveying everything around him. I didn't recognise his armour, but guessed him to be one of ours. Maybe one of the Prince's. "Hey."  
  
He shot me a surly look, "Yes?"  
  
"One of my comrades is buried beneath the carcass of this cave troll. Could you please find some help to retrieve him?"  
  
"Why don't ye do it yourself?" He sneered. "All proud up on that unnatural beast."  
  
"Because I will fall on my face and puke up the rest of my stomach contents if I try."  
  
He snorted.  
  
"Luthien!"  
  
I turned, happy to hear a familiar voice. The sight of the elf was a shock, however. Legolas had fared as badly as I had, his clothing matted with blood and other things. A bruise surrounded his left eye, purpling beautifully. "Legolas."  
  
"My lady, we feared for your demise."  
  
"'Tis Pippin's I fear for." I pointed at the troll. "He's buried under that."  
  
He nodded in understanding and called over his shoulder, "Friend Gimli, we have proud work for that axe of yours!"  
  
Gimli set to with a will and shortly Pippin was freed. I was up to noticing more by then. The eagles had arrived while I'd been dead. In the distance, I recognised Gwahir and another carrying some small burdens towards us.  
  
As they grew closer, I finally realised they were carrying two very small hobbits. And I wondered how much time I'd lost dead for the eagles to have been to Mount Doom and back.  
  
Quite a bit, possibly.  
  
It was over. Good had won.  
  
I sat on Alayna's back, awaiting the inevitable gate that would suck us from this reality to the next.  
  
But it didn't.  
  
Instead, the wounded streamed in as Mordor grew daisies complaisently.  
  
We repaired to Ithilien, fairly shortly. I'm still a bit unclear on that since I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. In Ithilien I felt safe enough, and I slept. Two days passed, during which I awakened for meals, ravishments of Gandalf, and baths. I love baths. They make me feel marginally clean.  
  
On the second day, I awoke to find Sam nearby, watching me. "Hello, my friend." I sat slowly, still uncertain if the earth would swallow me whole if I wasn't careful.  
  
"Marya." He seemed to want to say something, and then couldn't.  
  
I stretched out a hand, "How are you?"  
  
He shook his head, "There is... Gandalf told me to wake you, but I found I couldn't. You seemed so peaceful."  
  
"Gandalf? What?" I winced as I moved to the edge of the bed, my body protesting this movement heartily.  
  
"He said to tell you Phred is not doing well."  
  
Phred. For a moment, my brain refused to even understand who that was. Then it did, and I cursed, standing and lurching over to the chair my robe was draped on. Sam blushed at my near-nudity, but I ignored him and swung the robe around myself. Grimly, I tied the sash. "Lead on, Sam."  
  
He led me through the camp to the tent where the wounded were. I followed him inside to a bed. Phred lay on it, his brow slick with sweat. I swore softly, and dropped down next to him reaching out with healing senses that screamed at being used when I was still so magically blasted. He'd caught something large and sharp in his gut, but he was refusing to die. Bastard didn't want to. I understood this.  
  
I considered the future as I held Phred's hand. As wounded as he was, he would get better. I'd seen it earlier, and I could see it now.  
  
And, of course, I was reaching into him, reknitting his guts into something resembling normal. The fever I could do little about, since it was fighting off infection.  
  
But, thirty years from now, he would be a bent old man. Eyes slowly going, hearing not what it was. And that persistent ache in his wrists would remind him of pulling string and loosing arrows, swinging a sword. Perhaps his knee would remind him of running down stairs to save Faramir's life.  
  
And he'd have children grown, and grandchildren. Fat, happy, babies, smiling adults. They would listen in bemusement as he would try to explain the last War of the Ring.  
  
Perhaps they might even understand the majesty and honour that had been bestowed on those who fought the great evil of Sauron. Perhaps they would be too complaisent.  
  
I could not be sure.  
  
Sadly, I let the vision go, and looked down at the hand I held. He would survive.  
  
My idealism hadn't.  
  
--  
  
Phred got well, of course.  
  
Eventually, there were feasts and celebrations. I was there, but puzzled, uncertain.  
  
No nightmares plagued my dreams. And only visions of peace touched my days.  
  
It was terribly disconcerting after the battles and I found myself grumbling about the lack of fighting to Gimli and Legolas.  
  
The dwarf laughed. "Methinks you are bored."  
  
"Well, yes." I tried to smile. "Idleness is... not my thing, really."  
  
"Then come with us to the forests of Fangorn!" He offered, smiling.  
  
"Perhaps." I sighed.  
  
"You could reclaim Moria for the dwarves." Legolas suggested, watching me keenly.  
  
I shuddered. "I believe it will be a very long time before I step foot in the Darrowdelf again. The things I saw there..."  
  
The elf smiled, "Then just enjoy the rest, Lady Luthien."  
  
"Marya, Legolas."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I should hope I was Marya to everyone before I was Lady Luthien." I said softly, disturbed.  
  
"You scare some, Marya." Gimli said, eyes sad.  
  
"Ah." I smiled vaguely, fighting the incipient sadness. Why couldn't I have just left? Why torture me with this? "I'll see you later, gentle friends."  
  
I was gone before they could answer.  
  
Before I began crying.  
  
--  
  
Gandalf found me later that day. Not that it was hard, considering my drunken singing. I'd gone through five kegs, stealthily toted through the forest. I'd found a nice little nook three or four miles from the army. No one except a determined searcher could have found me.  
  
Except for the singing.  
  
Five kegs barely blunted me. I still ached, wishing I could run from it and lose myself in another world. And I couldn't. Because there was no portal yet, and I hadn't the strength to call one of my own.  
  
Fate sucked.  
  
"Ye iluve ohtacarnë?" He asked me gently.  
  
I stared at him, then downed another glass. "Probably."  
  
After all, it did indeed feel as if everything in my life was made war upon. Or maybe I just let myself feel too much.... And if I didn't, I felt too distant, too removed from life. There was no middle ground.  
  
He took the mug from me, "Why?"  
  
"I don't belong to this world. I shouldn't still be here." I attempted to take the mug back, and failed. "And it hurts to see friends fear me."  
  
The mug was tipped back, and he swallowed. The he set it down and caught my hand as I reached for it. "I do not fear you."  
  
"The crazy wizard doesn't fear me. That's very comforting."  
  
He snorted. "You are being needlessly melodramatic."  
  
"Says the White Wizard," I mocked dryly.  
  
"Yes. He does." He caught my chin in one hand, forcing our eyes to meet. "You are the most remarkable woman--full of such courage and daring. And yet you loathe yourself."  
  
I half-shrugged. "Comes with the territory of Most Powerful Idiot."  
  
"Does it."  
  
I tried to look away, but he held on. "There is such darkness inside of me. I fight it and lose--the glass in the Pelennor. Earlier, Helm's Deep..." Where I had truly lost the battle.  
  
He shook his head, "You do not always have to fight."  
  
"Yes I do. I once heard, 'with great power comes responsibility'. and it's a cliche, but it's TRUE. What if I pause, I stop. And I relent against that battle, and something happens?" I closed my eyes, shuddering at the images rioting through my brain. If Alayna hadn't talked me down at the Deep...  
  
"Poppycock." There was something derisive in his voice. "You merely do this to feel better. Self-flagellation is your art. You depress yourself, therefore, you never fail your expectations, because they're always low."  
  
I opened my eyes and blinked. "What?"  
  
He released my chin and drew the last mug of ale. "Think about it."  
  
"I have. That makes no sense."  
  
"You have to be a wise Wizard to understand it fully," He replied loftily.  
  
I snorted, "You...bastard." I glared at him, amused in spite of myself. "Pompous, too."  
  
He tried looking injured, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. "You put too much on yourself, beloved."  
  
I snorted again, and retrieved my ale.  
  
"Now, come, I'm sure there are more pleasant pursuits than drinking yourself insensate."  
  
"Really?" I arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
His hand glided up my arm and he moved, busying himself with dotting kisses along my jaw. "Yes."  
  
"Oh." He slid his free hand down the front of my tunic, and cold fingers played across suddenly interested nipples. "Oh! Yesss..."  
  
--  
  
Much will probably be written of the parties and celebrations which followed the defeat of Sauron. The people of Middle Earth were rejoicing in the new-found peace. I could agree with them to some extent. And so I drank and danced, in skirts loaned to me by the women of Minas Tirith. Green and gold, red and blue. I was a peacock among bluejays.  
  
Oftentimes, I danced without Gandalf as he was busy doing Wizzardly things. Instead I partnered the men who had fought beside me, nearly spending their lives for this peace.  
  
And the councils and discussions raged around us.  
  
But Minas Tirith was a city of celebration, a festival of lights and colour and sound.  
  
Not that it was all fun and games. There were prisoners of war to distribute. And, in the end, the men of the south were pardoned and sent off with trade offers and a full complement of diplomats. Someone had to start peace treaties, after all. And while they might not honour nor believe them, Gondor would stand by them.  
  
I talked with some of the Haradrim, trying to reassure them--they rarely believed until I showed them some of the evil things Sauron had done. Repulsed they began to understand the great lie perpetuated upon them.  
  
As easy as it seemed, I didn't think it would remain. Time would pass, complaisancy would breed suspicion.  
  
And Gondor could find her borders threatened again.  
  
But this was not my concern. I could feel the pull of other things. My time in Middle Earth was suddenly shortening. It made me sad, almost melancholy. To have known these great people and to be leaving them... I would miss them.  
  
More time passed, the coronation of King Elessar (Aragorn, of course, had proven his mettle for this task) came and went. Arwen the Evenstar was bound to him for life... And it was eventually time for the hobbits to return to the Shire.  
  
Restless, surprised I hadn't been dragged off yet, I asked Aragorn if there might be need of me in the north. He gladly accepted my help and appointed me temporary Ranger of the north. I would protect the Shire and the northern wastes. He took my service and pledged to send the Rangers after me when they were ready.  
  
The party set out in late spring comprising of four hobbits, more elves than you can shake a stick at, a few humans, Gandalf, and me. At Rohan, Eomer left us to rebuild his people. Eowyn and Faramir had long since left this side of the Anduin for Ithilien where they were appointed its keepers. Apparently, in Aragorn's absence, Eowyn had fallen for Faramir. Smart girl.  
  
At the pass to Rivendell, the elves separated. I actually hugged Elrond. I think I scared him.  
  
By the time we reached Bree, I knew it was the end of my journey. I said farewell to the hobbits, and kissed Gandalf gently. I watched them ride down the road towards the Shire and felt a pang of regret.  
  
If only I could have kept him with me... 


	25. I Want to Learn to Love the Bomb

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-Five: I Want to Learn to Love the Bomb  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
I do not know where Gandalf was those two long years. I know where I was. Haunting the north and guarding those who had fought so dearly in the War of the Ring. The Shire, Bree...  
  
History, no doubt, would gloss over my involvement. It was an inevitable tendency I'd found. Centuries would pass and very few would remember the Lady Marya Luthien, friend of Middle Earth and sorceress. It had happened before, and I was guessing it was Fate's way of saving face. Or maybe it was just to keep me humble.  
  
Those first six months I was kept busy rousting out all manner of creatures and men. Those who deserved it died swiftly. Those who were left I sent to Bree or Gondor. The cold quickly passed through to the spring, and I was grateful. Since it was damned cold and a lot of time was spent covering icy ground.  
  
The North is vast, really, but having a horse to ride made it smaller. And so I spent a lot of time in the saddle, relearning how much I hated the activity. Alayna wasn't much happier...  
  
Some of the time, and miles, was spent delving down into the earth for energy to rebuild my stores. There had been nothing left after the transformation spell on Mordor. And, knowing Fate, wherever I got sent next I'd need magic. At times I felt I was so far underground that the catacombs under Moria would have been above me.  
  
Often I thought wistfully of the White Wizard who had stooped to share body and mind with me.  
  
Especially on cold nights when I woke alone, half-remembered battles dancing across my dreams.  
  
But he never came. And, as cold turned to spring then into a gentle summer I began to doubt he ever would. He had things to do, and I wasn't them.  
  
My hair grew out, though. It was still riotously curly, but now it was nearly to my shoulders.  
  
The leaves began turning and I made infrequent forays into Bree. They regarded me as a curiosity, a female Ranger. Alone and kindredless. Butterbar, the keep of the Dancing Pony, found me calming company, not demanding of chatter or conversation. We would sit in his parlour silently, sipping at lovely golden ale, or talking softly of Gandalf and Strider, or the news from the south.  
  
My presence in Bree sent those who would cause trouble packing. And I found them out in the forests, and took care of them as I saw fit.  
  
The innkeeper stocked some lovely ales. And, as it grew colder, I began stabling Alayna in Bree when I could. More worried about the wear and tear on her old bones than I was on mine.  
  
She returned this loyalty by only rarely complaining during the month we spent tracking and destroying a band of thieves in the marshes. We were frequently wet and covered in mud, and rarely had a fire. Until the last of them were gone, and we built a pyre that was probably seen for miles around.  
  
It was warm, though, so I didn't really care.  
  
A bitterly cold winter fell on the northern reaches of Middle Earth, and snow fell in waves. It never quite let up, and at times I felt as if I were the only human being left. Then Alayna would take us to Bree and Butterbar would tsk at my leanness and feed me too much and give me a warm soft bed while Alayna got warm mash and a blanket.  
  
When it became too lonely--sometime in January, I think--I followed the left-over bits of the link to Gandalf. He was surprised, but willing. And we met in dreams, then. Making love more often than not, our minds entwining deeply as our bodies could not.  
  
If I had been less honourable, less atuned to the duty of being the only Ranger in the north, we could have met up physically. But he was busy in the East and South, and I was alone in the frozen North.  
  
He learned more about me than I'd meant to let him. Bits and pieces of what I had been, who I would become. I think I scared him a bit. To realise the woman he loved could destroy the universe if pressed. Maybe it was what kept us so apart. I tried not to think on it too long.  
  
Spring finally crept in, sneaking under doors and around glaciers. Flowers budded brightly as the land sprang back into life. And Gandalf finally came. In *both* senses of the word.  
  
He arrived wind-blown and streaked with the spring rain which pelted the downs. It was a surprise, but a welcome one. We talked until there was no need for talk, and then we danced together under the stars, exchanging passion and love. Ecstacy was our tireless quest that night, and we were unquenchable in our desires for each other. There was a desperation to both of us, as if some sense said the end was soon.  
  
I knew it would come, it had to. I never was allowed to stay a lifetime. Not when it was my happiness that was there. Fate would smile, and I would be whisked away, to save another world.  
  
Quests would come and go. Loves would wax and wane. And I would leave my White Wizard behind.  
  
Morning came too soon, and he left, the time already too much spent with me.  
  
My body ached with loneliness, and strained muscles. It wasn't every day that I danced my passions out in such strenuous ways. It was a rather good ache.  
  
Except that I was alone.  
  
::I may not be your fuck buddy, by I *am* here.:: Alayna reminded me caustically.  
  
A soft chuckle escaped me. ::True. Thank you, dearest.::  
  
--  
  
More time passed, and the year slowly grew older. I began to feel a restless urging from nowhere and everywhere, as if the very trees were chattering at me, "It's time! It's time!" they cried. And I knew the inevitable was approaching. My magical reserves were back to levels that wouldn't leave me a broken wreck.  
  
The Rangers came back that summer, filtering north after celebrating their King for so long. They greeted me with surprise and gladness as I passed them my own news.  
  
And then the North was no longer mine. It was theirs, as it had been for countless generations. I felt an interfering interloper, and retired to Bree and Butterbar's food.  
  
I spent the days telling him all I could of various things, and giving him such jewels and moneys I had. They would not be useful out of Middle Earth, I was certain. And though he protested, claiming my tales were payment enough, I prevailed in the end.  
  
But the woods in his Inn knew the truth, and at night I could hear them whispering softly, telling me it was time to leave.  
  
Mid-August came and I was restless with it. And a story Pippin had told to me resurfaced. Of the Ents and the Ent-wives, and how he was certain they might possibly reside in the South Farthing of the Shire.  
  
I left Bree during the night leaving the town as I had found it, peaceful and safe. The journey into the Shire was quiet and uneventful until at last I came to the supposed resting place of the Ent-wives. The fields and grasslands were lush and full, and I suspected the area more of good manure than magic.  
  
But there was something there and so I rode slowly, eyes and ears open until at last I came to a field of daisies a lone tree in the center. She was a silvery barked beauty, her branches gnarled with age yet still graceful.  
  
Dismounting, I walked towards her, then stopped and sat. Alayna flopped behind me and I leaned against her flank.  
  
"I suppose," I began softly, speaking to the tree, to the sky, to the daisies which grew around us so innocently, "that I should begin at the beginning. But what was the beginning? Death? A ring? No. It was fire which begat them all."  
  
My voice echoed slightly as I began the tale of the ring and its travels through Middle Earth. I touched upon the deaths of men and elves, dwarf-lords who were forever lost. And I talked of the Ents and the routing of Saruman and the destruction of Isengard. I talked until I was nearly hoarse, my throat dry with labour and my heart at rest.  
  
The sun was slowly setting far away, the fragrant breeze tantalising.  
  
"You speak well, young one."  
  
The voice might have startled me, but I'd been expecting it for some time. I turned slowly and gazed calmly at the willow tree which had taken sudden root nearby. "I thank you, my lady."  
  
"Child, you have told a tale which is amazing in some ways. What was your object in passing it here?"  
  
"None, lady." I half-bowed to her. "I merely came to entertain the wise and beseech them for rest for the night."  
  
"She has a glib tongue, does she not, Laure?" There was laughter in this new voice, and I regarded the silvery tree that had basked in the sunlight with me. "Child, there is always an object. Man has never changed from thus."  
  
"Nor elf?" I asked with a grin.  
  
"Nay. They have neither the wit nor the lack of pride to beg from such as we." The Ent-wife--for that was what she had to be--bent in a mockery of a bow. "What would you, I repeat?"  
  
I considered them both, then nodded slowly, "I suspect in the end that I would have asked in the morning. But. Consider this, will you not forgive the Ents? They miss you a great deal. And this Age of Middle Earth still needs the subtle magic you possess."  
  
"How glib the brat is." This new voice was shrill, but the tree who owned it was covered in white blossoms which smelled lovely.  
  
"Oh, do put away your sting, Malina." The original Ent-Wife scolded softly. "She means us no harm."  
  
"So you say. I, I believe she is sent to find us out." Malina reached out, catching her claw-like hand in my hair and yanked, pulling me backwards over Alayna's back. I stifled a yelp. "Will you now tell them, so they may burn down our valleys and gardens, little brat?"  
  
"No." I tried not to move, since the pain from the roots of my hair said that any movement would see me bald. Again. "But I'd appreciate you not pulling my hair out. It's only just got this long, and I rather like it."  
  
"Let her go, Malina." Laure waved a branch. "She cannot harm us and you are being highly unreasonable."  
  
"Am I? My children have already been burned. And there was fire in the north not that long ago. How soon will it reach us here, Laure? How long before we're merely stumps to be dug under into the soil?"  
  
"It matters little," the willow replied serenely. "For even under the soil we shall nurture our children and friends."  
  
Malina shook me slightly, then slowly released me and I could have sworn she snorted contemptuously. "As you wish, Nandara. But on your branches be this deed. And I will not be here to see you rue it." But there was something in her gaze that told me she was not finished. Either that, or she was constipated. If trees can get constipated.  
  
Turning to me the willow spread her branches. "I am Nandara, child."  
  
Rubbing my head, I smiled, "Marya DeZorga. Lovely to meet you."  
  
Laure rustled her branches, the sound like laughter on the wind. "I am Laurelinea."  
  
"I truly did not mean to offend you," I stood slowly, "And I meant what I said. I come only to talk. I don't want change--or, well, I wouldn't mind it. But it affects me not at all whether you whither away here or with the Ents."  
  
::Oh, that's polite.::  
  
::Shut up.::  
  
Pulling slightly away, they both stiffened. Laure rustled her leaves, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"The Third Age is gone, darlin'. The Fourth Age doesn't look like it's going to have much magic in it. The elves are leaving Middle Earth. Doesn't this suggest to you that maybe old grudges and disputes should be settled before it all goes to hell?"  
  
I was taking a risk putting it this bluntly. But they seemed sensible, er, people?  
  
Nandara smiled at me, "I knew I liked you. Come, I'm sure we have something you can sleep on. Or would you prefer to eat before resting?"  
  
I blinked at her. "I'm actually not tired yet. Or hungry."  
  
"Then we shall leave you here. We must consider your words among us before we make any decision."  
  
"Not being hasty, then?"  
  
She chuckled. "That is for humans and hobbits, child. Although we are far more hasty than the Ents."  
  
I nodded. "I need some rest, then. I'll be here in the morning."  
  
"Good night, Marya." They both said. And then they were gone, sliding silently away across the meadow. 


	26. All's Well That Ends Well

Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth  
  
Chapter Twenty-Six: All's Well That Ends Well  
  
by Galadriel Tolkien  
  
It was actually mid-day before my lazy idyll was interrupted by the arrival of Laure.  
  
"Dear?"  
  
"Hrm?" I pulled a piece of grass from between my lips and stretched.  
  
"There is no decision, yet. But you are welcome to stay in my meadow for as long as you wish."  
  
I smiled at her. "Thank you. I shall not be here for... well, long in your terms, I think. Perhaps a month, perhaps less." Something was tugging minutely at me. It was telling me things would end in this world soon. Which was a pity, since I was really liking it here.  
  
The day turned into a week, one week into two, and before I knew it, I'd passed almost four weeks in the grassy meadow under the sun. The rest had finished restoring the last of my reserves and I was suddenly itching to go. Despite the occasional Ent-Wife, I'd had nearly no companionship or conversation save Alayna. And, love her though I do, she wears upon the nerves, eventually.  
  
Luckily, Laure and Nandara came to see me off. Neither could reassure me as to the outcome, but I had a feeling that the breech between the Ents and the Ent-Wives would heal soon.  
  
I followed the tug northwards, and realised that it was nearly mid-September.  
  
At a crossroads, I met them. A procession rode through the Shire from Lothlorien and Rivendell. We traveled in quiet and music. Bilbo was with them, and Galadriel. We talked softly of the times we had had since our last meeting. Sorrow flowed under all, however, and I began to understand why the day we met Sam and Frodo on the road.  
  
They joined us, and I wept inside at the thinness there was in Frodo's face, as if he wasted away under his skin. Bilbo had the same look, but he'd held the Ring for so much longer...  
  
It wore away at their souls, and I ached to know they would never feel completely whole without it.  
  
Sam carried some of that with him as well, and I did what I could to alleviate it. Frodo and Bilbo, I could not touch. But Sam--for him, I would break what laws I could--he didn't deserve to live his life never knowing complete happiness.  
  
A few more days passed, but there was a sense of restlessness from the Elves, and so we moved quickly towards their destination.  
  
It was a quay, on the far side of the Shire. The Grey Havens, they called it. There was an air of ancient grace and sorrow about the place as we rode up. And someone awaited us there.  
  
Gandalf.  
  
He'd changed since our last meeting. More tired, more lined. And I wondered what he'd battled to gain such sorrow in his eyes.  
  
"Beloved." I touched his face, tears filling the corners of my eyes, "I... This is the end, is it not."  
  
"Yes." He covered my hand with his and sighed, "You were a light to shine in my darkest hours, Luthien. Marya."  
  
I tried to laugh, and couldn't. I'd known this was coming from the beginning. Hell, I'd known I was leaving without saying goodbye. But it still hurt, and I still grieved. Throwing caution to the winds, I hugged him tightly, lips telling him everything I couldn't speak aloud.  
  
He clutched me convulsively, then released, and we stepped back.  
  
I turned from him to catch Frodo in a hug, then Bilbo. Tears were falling freely now, but I didn't care. These had been my friends and comrades. Galadriel was startled when I hugged her. Then she hugged me back, and sighed. "Ah, Marya."  
  
"Yes." I kissed her cheek. "Be well, my friend."  
  
"And you."  
  
Most of the party was aboard ship by now. I stepped back to stand by Sam, and was startled to hear horses approaching.  
  
::Pippin and Merry.:: Alayna nudged my shoulder, and I turned to look at them.  
  
They were hale and hearty looking, taller than I'd remembered, but sad as well. Gandalf had sent them word, and so they had come. To say goodbye to Frodo. To Gandalf.  
  
Sam would stay.  
  
More hugs and tears, and then they were all on the ship. It cast off in silence, and we watched until it disappeared from our sights.  
  
"Goodbye," I said softly, tears streaming still. I turned, and Pippin, Merry and Sam looked at me as I sighed. "It is time for me to leave as well." I caught them all in a hug, our tears mingling. "Take great care of Middle Earth and the Shire for me."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." They replied as one.  
  
I chuckled as I mounted. "May the sun shine as it should, the rain fall where it may and may love always find you."  
  
::Getting poetic in your old age.:: Alayna remarked dryly.  
  
I ignored her and called the portal that would take me elsewhere. Somewhere there would be someone in danger, and I would arrive in the Nick of Time. It popped into existence, shimmering brightly in the half-light of dusk.  
  
"Goodbye, Marya!" Pippin cried.  
  
"Farewell!" I shot one last look at them, and waved. Alayna stepped into the portal, and they disappeared. I faced forward. For an instant, there was nothing. Then we stood on a grassy hillside, the sun shining brightly upon us.  
  
Silence echoed for a moment, then from somewhere nearby came a scream for help.  
  
As I listened to it a moment the portal behind me closed, and I glanced at the space it had occupied. Middle Earth was gone.  
  
The scream echoed again and I sighed. "I'm getting too old for this."  
  
Alayna snorted and began trotting towards the sound. ::You were born old.::  
  
"Probably."  
  
-finis-  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the aforementioned people, possibly not even Marya. No money is being made, neither is it wanted, thank you very much. I have tried to play nicely with the characters.   
  
Author's Notes: Gosh. That was long. It took me somewhere in the vicinity of 19 months to write, edit, and then re-write this work of fiction. I hope it's been worth it.  
  
I've attempted to stay true to Tolkien. It's hard, sometimes. Much of the dialogue is either straightly his, or based around it. I tried not to re-use too much, but in this I've probably failed. I like the plot, by the way, which is why I've only mucked about with it a little.  
  
For the record, any Quenya abused is my own fault, despite the lovely assistance of Ardalambion (http://www.uib.no/people/hnohf/). Most useful place...  
  
To those who would mention that Gandalf should be gay: bite me. ;)  
  
I'd like to thank many people. First off, Kielle. Without your off-hand crack about random orcs, this never would have had a title. Timey, Drea, Shai, Foe, Alryssa, and god knows how many others for my repeated ramblings at all hours of the night, day, and afternoon. Especially to Ryss for giving me my brain back so I could over-run the Pelennor.  
  
I'd like to thank the musicians that got me through the hours of Random Orcs: Pogues, Duran Duran, Tori Amos, Elastica, Portishead, Sarah McLachlan, Loreena McKennitt, Debbie Gibson, Depeche Mode, Stabbing Westward, Pet Shop Boys, LotR: FotR soundtrack, Simple Minds, random techno, Something for Kate, 30 Seconds to Mars, Mono, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, Muppet Show, Dido, Bif Naked, Dubstar, New Order, Chess: the Musical... The list goes on. BUT. I'd like to Especially thank Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine, for providing amusing background vocals during the last hour of editing. I couldn't have survived without you even as I conjured Swan Lake.  
  
In the end, I suppose it doesn't really matter if this is liked. Because it's finished. Ciao. 


End file.
